


Across the Void

by Elialys



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (i think), Bad Wolf Bay, Episode AU: 2006 Xmas The Runaway Bride, Episode Fix-It: s02e13 Doomsday, Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, F/M, First Time, Light Angst, Reunion, Romance, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Sex, and the regular kind :p
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-12 18:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elialys/pseuds/Elialys
Summary: "Can't you come through properly?""The whole thing would fracture. Two universes would collapse.""So?"In which Rose Tyler presses a button.





	1. I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only read a handful of fics here and there these past few weeks, but that was enough for me to know this story is nothing original. But I rewatched Doomsday a couple of days ago, and I decided I needed to fix it a bit. This is my (unoriginal) take on things. Oh, and just to make it clear, Ten and Rose were NOT in an established relationship before they got separated. This isn't exactly 'slow burn' since I don't plan to make this more than 2 or 3 parts long, but it's a 'burn' alright :p
> 
> Edit: I lied to myself. It wasn't 2 or 3 parts longs at all.

I.

The instant Rose reappeared in that bleak universe, she knew she’d lost him.

How cliché it was, to say that losing someone you cared about created emptiness; a _void_. For Rose, it turned out to be more literal than for most.

She hadn’t realised how strong her connection to the Doctor had been until it was violently severed from her. Months and months spent at his side, their bond gently weaving itself, threads of trust after threads of trust, strengthened by affection and companionship…gone.

She hadn’t known.

She hadn’t known that with every touch, every contact of his skin against hers, as small as it may have been, often through clasped hands, he’d seeped within her, as she had within him...his skin colder than hers, yet his mind warmer still.

She hadn’t known, until she was left pressing her entire body against a cold, cold wall, palm splayed upon hard concrete, and she felt nothing but this excruciating absence of warmth.

This absence of him.

She _knew_ he was standing where she stood, a universe away, his hand upon hers…yet there was nothing.

There was nothing.

…

_Rose…_

His breath tickled her skin, until it erupted in goose bumps.

She knew this was a dream, but he was too tangible for it to be nothing more.

How could he be this ethereal, yet cause her blood to flow so quickly through her veins as her heart picked up speed?

_Rose…_

Her skin was a minefield of exposed nerves, not just the outside layer of it, but the layer _within_ , too; she felt him in ways she’d never gotten to feel him while awake, before he was torn away from her.

He wasn’t here, and yet he was, rushing, rushing, _rushing_ throughout her body.

_Rose…_

He _was_ real, as real as that heat deep within, spreading faster and faster, wider and wider, his warmth scorching every inch of her, as fiercely as she’d once been scorched by the infinite.

He was real, and then, he was gone.

…

He stood in front of her in his damn brown suit, only inches away from her, yet there was nothing.

No warmth.

_Where are you?_

She _had_ to ask; even if he hadn’t looked like a ghost, the lack of _him_ told her everything she needed to know.

He was here, but not really.

Her fingers rose towards his face, seeking to reconnect.

_No touch._

Just an image.

_Can’t you come through properly?_

How could an image hurt this much?

_The whole thing would fracture. Two universes would collapse._

She’d known he’d say something like that. He was probably right, too. What she was planning to do was selfish and mad, and yet…

_So?_

She might have let it go, then; let him go. But she’d asked him what _he_ was going to do.

_Oh, I’ve got the TARDIS. Same old life, last of the Time Lords._

If he hadn’t been so honest, she might just have let him go.

But their time was running out, and he didn’t bother pretending anymore.

_On your own?_

What was the point of being guarded when she was never going to see him again?

When he nodded, the smallest of gesture, she saw his loneliness, even if she couldn’t _feel_ it anymore.

She saw it in the depth of his eyes, in the absence of light.

In the absence of hope.

She saw that whatever time had passed since Canary Wharf, it had scarred him as much as it’d scarred her.

After all, he _was_ burning up a sun just to say goodbye.

She’d made her decision a long time ago.

She’d made her decision long before he’d invaded her dreams and breathed her name under her skin.

And those lonely, lonely eyes?

They were calling her home.

“Come find me,” she told him, as he’d once told her in a dream.

Before his look of incredulity could properly take hold of his traits, she’d brought a hand to her chest, feeling the device she’d concealed under her jacket, and his growing incredulity turned into understanding and dread when she closed her second hand into a fist.

“Rose don’t you-” he uttered.

But just as Dorothy had once clicked her heels and thought ‘home’, Rose pressed the button and thought just the same.

…

 _Dårlig Ulv Stranden_ was colder on this side of the Void.

The thrill she felt when she first opened her eyes and realised her plan had worked did not last long.

Selfish and mad, that was her all right.

Bit of an overdramatic pessimist, that was him, too.

The device had done what it was designed to do; it had found this tiniest of gap, and used whatever energy source it could latch on to successfully send her through the fabric of the universe, back into her own. The Doctor would be able to explain the mechanics of it much better than the team of scientists that had spent the past ten months working on it had, but she’d gotten the gist of it.

_‘Your whole body has a very specific signature, a frequency different from this universe; all the device needs is to take hold of that frequency and you will be pulled back. Like a giant magnet.’_

Something like that.

Rose was aware that the absence of universes _collapsing_ didn’t mean she hadn’t messed it all up.

The energy source the device had used must have been that sun the Doctor was using in the first place; all she could hope for was that she hadn’t caused a blast so powerful that she’d fried the TARDIS with its lone occupant trapped in it.

She didn’t know how long she spent, standing on that beach, refusing to walk, or to find some shelter from the icy winds. Her only movements had been to look around her and confirm her family was gone, before removing the device from around her neck, turning it off, and pushing it deep in the pocket of her jacket. She stood still, then, arms wrapped around herself, shaking more and more strongly as her body fought to keep hypothermia at bay.

Eventually, she allowed her eyes to close, aware that she would hear him long before she saw him.

She focused on the sounds rather than on her physical discomfort. The waves that regularly and rhythmically crashed upon the shore a few hundreds metres away soothed some of her anxiety, if only by a fraction…until the distant rumblings of an approaching storm joined the mix.

She had no notion of time, hadn’t let herself look at her watch, so afraid to move, but she knew she spent hours, waiting. She did her best to keep calm, telling herself over and over again that this delay didn’t mean anything.

Yes, he had a time machine, which he’d successfully used in the past to reappear in front of her literal seconds after disappearing, but she knew this feat was easier to do when the TARDIS had the exact time coordinates.

He knew _where_ she was, but she had failed to tell him _when_ she was.

The better part of a year might have gone by for her since they’d parted, she’d travelled long enough with him to know that human time was irrelevant on the TARDIS. This goodbye scene could have happened three days after Canary Wharf for him, just as it could have happened five years later.

She doubted it’d been that long. He’d sought her out, had gone as far as sacrificing a sun to give them this last moment.

The grief in his eyes had been too raw.

All she could do was wait; a trembling figure on a Norwegian beach, curled up into herself while she fought to remain upright, teeth chattering inside her mouth. And she strained her ears, begging them to hear that one sound she desperately needed to hear, so much more than the growls of looming thunder.

She couldn’t move.

If she stayed put, stayed still, stayed so very still, only then would he be able to find her.

When the distant whinging, _whooshing_ sounds pierced the air at last, she kept her eyes closed, part of her aware that she might be hallucinating; the brain did things like this under duress.

Everything around her seemed to _shift_ , then, and when the whooshing became a howl, her instincts ordered her to open her eyes and look. She did so, just in time to see a smoking blue box fall from the sky, twirling, swirling.

And a bit on fire.

It hit the ground less than thirty metres away from her with a resonating thump, the earth shaking beneath her feet.

She stared in shock and horror at the roasting sides of the TARDIS, both her hands clasped over her mouth; the spaceship was soon surrounded by a thick cloud of steam, as the moist sand attempted to cool off its overheating base, causing the water to evaporate in a loud hissing sound.

There was a gap in the smoky, steamy veil, one of the doors having burst open. She saw a flash of brown within the fog, and soon heard the familiar noise of a fire extinguisher being put to good use, along with a stream of swear words she was fairly certain were in Gallifreyan.

Once again, Rose couldn’t move, but this time it was due to shock and relief and exhilaration, watching as the Doctor ran around his poor TARDIS to put out the various fires that had sprouted. More than the sight of him, it was the _feel_ of him that caused her heartbeat to triple in speed, her limbs to shake, her throat to constrict.

Despite the distance that separated them, she felt his presence in a way she hadn’t only hours ago, when they’d stood so close to each other on this very beach, a universe away.

She was going home.

Right now, her home was still giving out a fair amount of smoke and steam, although it was quickly diminishing, the sides of it now more white than blue, the foaming substance sticking to the wood panels.

Her other home was jabbering away, and she became aware that his stream of undecipherable swear words had morphed into a rant, one that definitely had her at its centre.

“…so typical of humans, let’s just do whatever passes through our heads on a whim, let’s not care about the consequences even though we were told that attempting anything of the sort would cause a monumental cataclysm and that two entire universes could collapse, never mind using technology that can make a sun implode with me _right next to it_ , noooo all of that is done in good fun and…”

She let him rant, her hands still pressed upon her mouth in a mere attempt to keep herself together, his endless chatter the most comforting of sounds.

She watched as the fire extinguisher gave up on him, the object having released every ounce of carbon dioxide it had to offer. He shook it a couple of times, before giving up, too, having no other choice but to turn and look at Rose, his face set, his gaze cold.

He seemed unaware of the fact that he himself was covered in a good amount of foam – hair included.

“You made that sun _implode_ ,” he told her, reproachfully, disappointment clear in his voice. “If not for the TARDIS’ shields and her speedy escape, I would be dust right now. Not to mention the fact that you could have killed _billions_ of people, simply because you refused to stay put and live a perfectly normal human life.”

When he stopped talking, the following silence felt heavy, unnatural even.

All she could do was stare back, stare into those eyes, watch at his jaw clenched, his face refusing to relax. Even from this distance, she could tell he was breathing too fast; a Time Lord out of breath, that was not supposed to happen.

Yet again, travelling across the Void wasn’t supposed to happen either.

Slowly, she let her hands fall from her face, taking a few steadying breaths herself as her heart hammered in her chest.

“Do you…” She attempted, her voice weak, shaky. She cleared her throat, tried again, her teeth still chattering from cold. “Do you want me to go back?”

She wasn’t being serious, of course. It didn’t take a genius to know that the device that had brought her here would never work again – as if any of them wanted it to work again.

The fact was, Rose had made a joke.

There he was, stony, annoyed and a little bit singed, and she was _mucking about_.

That’s all it took.

She watched as his mask cracked and fissured the way the universes could have but hadn’t. He was throwing the fire extinguisher down, then, swiftly making his way to her, and maybe she moved forward too, or maybe she just stayed put.

All she knew was that one moment she was cold and alone, and the next her body had collided with his, her arms having slipped under his, clinging to his shoulders with her face pressed so hard against his neck, feeling the iron tight clasp of his embrace around her.

He was not warm, no, never had been and never would be, her beautiful Doctor, but he was _solid_ and made of flesh and muscles and bones, and right now, he seemed to be squeezing her to him with every single one of these muscles and bones.

Above all else, that void, that horrible, throbbing void she’d been living with since Canary Wharf, she felt it disappearing; the tighter he clung to her and she clung to him, with her nose pressed painfully against his collarbone, the more clearly she _felt_ him, inside her head, running through her veins.

He was filling up her soul the way the smell of him was filling up her lungs, a mix of fire and ice and ancient meadows.

It took her a while to realise he was talking again, whispering into her hair, more aware of the vibrations of his vocal chords against her skin than of the words themselves. The stream of muffled sounds resembled something close to ‘ _My Rose, my stupidly, wonderfully human Rose…_ ’

“Oi!!!”

The voice, furious and _loud_ , came as such a shock that they jumped apart, releasing each other completely as they looked for the source of the shout.

She was not hard to find.

Standing in the open door of his ship, her white dress matched quite nicely with the TARDIS, its sides still covered with goo, which was slowly beginning to run down the wood.

“Are you _seriously_ telling me that when you ordered me to _stay inside and not touch anything_ , you were not fixing your damn flying saucer at all but out here _snogging_ some random woman?!”

Although it had been a question, it did not sound like a question at all.

Next to her, the Doctor nearly recoiled, clearly at a loss for words – an extremely rare occurrence. He distractedly brought a hand up to his hair, finally ridding it of the layer of foam that had settled there, causing it to spike.

“Well, I, no, not at all, we didn’t, I just…” he tried, lamely, giving up quickly, letting this angry stranger carry on thinking they’d been snogging – when they really hadn’t.

“Are you taking the mick, Martian boy? You come back in here and _take me back to my bloody wedding!_ ”

“I’m not actually a Mar- ” he started just as Rose felt compelled to say:

“Oh he’s not from Ma-”

“DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE?”

“Nope, nope, fine, coming,” he said.

“Oooh I _like_ her,” Rose told him, unable not to grin; all trace of anxiety had left her body, which was overflowing with adrenaline and endorphin.

She knew that it would hit her, eventually, what she’d done and _who_ she’d left behind, but not quite yet.

She _had_ made it back, and as if that wasn’t enough, she’d barely had a minute to breathe before they were off to another adventure.

Just the way she liked it.

“She terrifies me,” he admitted, his eyes still on the Bride, who stood at the TARDIS’ entrance with her hands on her hips, like a disapproving matron.

“Exactly,” Rose said. “C’mon, Martian boy,” she extended her hand, just as thunder boomed overhead. “We got a wedding to go to.”

He looked down at her wriggling fingers, a signature move that was usually his, barely hesitating before taking hold of her hand. And again, he _squeezed_ , as if to make sure she was real, sending waves of warmth and joy through her arm and beyond.

Their gazes met again, and for the first time since he’d joined her, he was close enough for her to actually see the brown of his eyes…which weren’t _that_ brown at moment, his pupils large and dilated.

The moment didn’t last either, as rain started to _pour_ on them all; the Bride let out a welp, quickly disappearing inside the ship in the hope to protect her gown, maybe. Rose let out a sound, too, at the sudden torrential rain, a simple noise of surprise and delight, aware that some of the delirious jubilation she felt wasn’t her own.

Without any further thought, she pulled him toward the TARDIS, almost at a run.

She was not but a metre a way from the ship’s open door when she was forced to halt her movements; the hand she held in hers wasn’t following along anymore, nor was the body attached to it. The Doctor had stopped, and the sudden change of pace caused her to be pulled back toward him with excess momentum, grabbing at his tie as she stumbled a little with a chuckle in her throat.

Her smile froze when she met his gaze, his face much closer than it had been in months. There was no trace of coldness or disappointment in his eyes, only bewilderment and...heat.

He’d apparently decided to ignore the rain or the fact that they were already drenched; she didn’t care for it much either, barely feeling it, too focused on him. Breathing did not get any easier when his free hand came up to her face.

He did so slowly, as if he expected his fingers to go through her, as hers would have gone through him only hours ago, when he was nothing but a projection. Luke-warm skin found her face instead, his palm soon cupping her cheek, and she leaned into his touch with a sigh, craving this tangible contact as much as he did.

His whole body tensed, then, his head jerking away from hers, “Ow ow ow!” He exclaimed, and Rose saw that the Bride’s arm had reappeared; she’d grabbed his ear between her fingers and was pulling him toward the entrance. “Not the ear, Donna, not the ear! Those are perfectly shaped!”

“Am I gonna need to muzzle the two of ya?” The Bride – Donna – asked in reprimand, releasing her grip on the Doctor’s (perfect) ear as they were both finally inside the TARDIS. “I don’t care who she is and what’s going on, I just want to get _married_!”

“I’m Rose,” Rose felt the need to clarify, already hugging herself, teeth chattering once more.

Now that she’d lost her physical connection with the Doctor, her body didn’t waste any time reminding her that she’d been rather unkind to it today.

“Are you as thick as he is, blondie?” Donna asked, _not_ amused.

Maybe Rose should have been offended by Donna’s attitude and rudeness, but she was too happy to be back _here_ to let herself be offended by anything.

Looking at the other woman’s face, she could almost feel the anguish and stress coming out of her in waves, realising that all this shouting and unforgiving persona was probably nothing more than her defence mechanism.

“He might’ve rubbed off on me a bit, yeah,” Rose couldn’t help but answer, and she and the Doctor shared an identical, idiotic grin, all teeth and twinkling eyes, faces, hair and clothes _dripping_ with water.

“Oi!” Donna went at it again, slapping him on the shoulder, hard. “WEDDING.”

“Ah, yes, wedding, church, vows, flowers!” he babbled, half-sprinting, half-tumbling toward the console. “Sorry old girl. No rest for the wicked.”

“ _Excuse-me_?” Donna bellowed.

“He’s talking to the ship,” Rose explained quickly.

Donna let out another sound of frustration and disbelief, pressing the heel of her hand against her eye as Rose joined him at the console.

As her fingers hovered over the familiar yet forever mysterious panel of levers, knobs and screens, she felt the radiant heat emanating from them; the TARDIS was trying to warm her up, all the while welcoming her back.

 _I missed you, too_ , she thought, wholeheartedly.

“What can I do to help?” She asked as she leaned closer to him, until her whole upper arm was pressed against his…along with their hips. “I’m pretty good at pressing buttons,” she dared to add with a bit of a cheeky smile, her tongue between her teeth.

Although he did not smile back when he met her gaze again, he did not move away either, his face a constellation of hope, freckles and rain.

When she felt him returning the pressure, relief trickled down her arm, and went straight into her heart.

“Quite right, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donna may just be one of my favourite characters ever. She's so feisty, I adore her.
> 
> I do plan to continue this, hence the mature rating (hint hint); as I said, don't expect anything very original from me, but do let me know if you'd like to read more :-)


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support on the first chapter! :') It's always a bit nerve-wrecking to start posting for a new fandom, especially when the pairing in question has been off screen for quite a few years. You guys are fantastic.
> 
> Anyway, here goes the second chapter (this story is going to be longer than I expected, yet again I always write more than I expect); I'm keeping the parts fairly short at the moment, considering I can only really write on Saturdays :'(
> 
> Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing; any dialogue taken from 'The Runaway Bride' comes from R.T. Davies' brilliant mind.

**II.**

Things were not going well. Not that Rose had expected them to.

When you travelled with the Doctor, you learned early on that he never bothered much with plans, as most of them tended to blow up in your face once in the thick of things, anyway.

Incidentally, the TARDIS never bothered much with landing where she was supposed to land either, especially when she was strained and still a bit smoky.

Less than half-an-hour could have passed since Rose had reunited with the Doctor, and there she was, with a stitch in her side.

 _That_ alone was ridiculous; she hadn’t simply stayed in shape this past year without him. She had _trained_. But her body was telling her in so many ways that it was fed up with today’s antics.

Ignoring the fact that she'd travelled between two universes with an untested device, she hadn’t had any water or food in too many hours to count, and she’d yet to do anything about her soggy clothes. Going from near hypothermia to sprinting did nothing to lessen her discomfort, her skin growing uncomfortably hot against the damp fabric.

Understandably, her brain was having some difficulties comprehending what was going on, too, trying to reconcile being caught in the rain on a Norwegian beach one minute, with racing through a crowded London street the next, on what might just be Christmas Eve.

She was back with the Doctor all right.

Rose was running after Donna. He was running after Rose.

All and all, not their best start – but not their worst either.

“Oi!!!”

Rose heard their runaway Bride before she saw her – bless her. She was trying (and failing) to hail a taxi, having made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with the TARDIS and the alien piloting it.

“They all think I’m drunk!” She exclaimed, outraged, as Rose came to a panting stop at her side.

“To be fair, you _are_ in a wedding dress, shouting about,” Rose breathed out, clenching at her ribs with a grimace.

“Not _helpful_ ,” Donna snapped, and Rose wondered how long it would be before she too started getting slapped.

“D’you even have money for the fare?” She asked, attempting to sound more sympathetic despite her growing unease. Surely such a small run shouldn’t have caused her to become this sweaty and weak.

Yet she could feel the droplets forming on the flushed skin of her face, replacing the rain water that had quickly dried up in the TARDIS. She was starting to lose sensation in her extremities as well, numbness taking over.

“Believe it or not, this particular wedding dress didn’t come with extra _pockets_!” Donna replied, her voice going from sweet to bellowing within the same sentence.

“No phone in there either then, I suppose?”

The question wasn’t Rose’s but the Doctor’s, who could have just as well materialised here, standing next to them while not even slightly out of breath. Damn him and his respiratory bypass. Even his hair and clothes seemed to have magically dried up.

“I figured you’d want to get in touch with your family, tell them what’s going on,” he added.

“ _I_ don’t even know what’s going on!” Donna shouted, rounding up on him again with a raised hand, and the Doctor nothing short of _hid_ behind Rose. “You’re the one who abducted me!”

Now slightly bent over as she tried to fill up her lungs more efficiently, her shortness of breath getting worse instead of receding, Rose couldn’t help but throw him a confused look over her shoulder. In all the craze and excitement, she hadn’t had a chance to ask him how Donna had come to be on his ship.

“I didn’t – I did _not_ abduct her!” He protested, indignation causing his pitch to become higher. “I barely managed to avoid getting roasted by an imploding supernova when she literally _appeared_ in my TARDIS. Hell of a funny ten minutes it was, trying to find _you_ while she kept shouting at me and threatening to cut off different bits of me if I didn’t take her back.”

“Cutting off _bits_ of you is still a likely outcome, Martian Boy, seeing I’m no closer to getting married than I was fifteen bloody minutes ago!”

Considering Rose had seen him face armies of hostile aliens without a shiver of fear, watching him cower under the forceful glare and tone of one lone human was strange, especially when that human had already walked a good distance away from him again. Any other time, Rose might even have found the sight of it endearing.

At this very moment, however, she was too distracted by her body shutting down on her.

Her limbs, so uncomfortable and sore a minute ago, were going numb and limp, while her vision was darkening at a worrying speed.

She didn’t realise she was falling until she found herself in his arms, halfway to the ground when he caught her from behind.

This was nothing like the embrace they’d shared half an hour ago, although he still clung to her with the same intensity. She couldn’t cling back, her body heavy, so heavy, her muscles unresponsive. She was conscious enough to be aware that he was talking, quite loudly at that, but for the life of her she could not process it.

She wondered if the TARDIS had stopped translating his speech pattern to her, until she remembered he spoke English.

Or did he?

Rose could not understand, but she could feel.

Her own body having given up for the time being, the only explanation for the rush of sensations prickling her nervous system was that they weren’t hers. Concern, and fear, and a forceful surge of…outrage?

She heard the plea in his tone, even if she couldn’t grasp his words, and knew he was speaking too loudly for it to be directed at her.

When she finally started to come through, enough for language to make sense again, she was greeted by bickering.

“…not happening, I have places to be, mister!”

“It’ll be faster if you carry half her weight.”

“I’m in my wedding dress!”

“Yes and you look lovely! But I don’t think you’re quite understanding the severity of the situation, her very tissues could be coming apart at the seam as we speak, she could be undergoing the first stage of molecular destabilisation, her atoms deionizing, splitting, detaching, her DNA mutating in a succession of unknown recombination as nucleic –”

“Phone.”

Rose’s croaked word stopped him at once, bringing his gaze down to hers. She’d spent the last fifteen seconds staring at his Adam’s apple as the words rushed out of him. This was more pleasant.

“What?” He asked, his voice once again too squeaky.

He was sitting in the middle of the pavement, with her half lying on his lap; although Donna had obviously come back at his side when he’d pleaded, she had not joined him on the ground. In typical Londoner fashion, people carried on as if nothing strange was happening, merely walking around the commotion, throwing a good amount of disapproving looks their way.

“Phone,” Rose repeated, having regained feeling in her arms, allowing her hand to go down to the pocket of her jeans, tap-taping the hard casing that hid in there. “If y’sonic my phone, she can call home.” She knew the device must be in one of his hands; she’d heard the noise it made as it scanned her.

She didn't need a telepathic link to know that above her, the Doctor was at a loss for words; his mouth was opening and closing, apparently shocked that she could worry about Donna getting to make a phone call when he was still computing variables and calculating her chances of survival.

"Are you experiencing any difficulty breathing?" He eventually asked, his brow set as he searched her face. His voice had been lower, too, both in tone and volume, and it reverberated through her. "Any sharp pain?" He did not give her time to answer any of his questions, using his screwdriver to scan her again. "Your heart sounds okay, bit faster than usual maybe, but it'd be tachycardic if your molecules were in the early stage of forced fragmentation."

“’m alright,” she said, stirring against him with a bit of a grimace. “Think one of your knees’s poking me in the bum, though. I’d forgotten how sharp your bones can be.”

He sighed with a small shake of his head, but she could have sworn she saw the shadow of a smile. “You really think now’s the time, eh? I’m trying to assess whether or not your atoms need rebinding, here.”

“I’m pretty sure my atoms just need sugar,” Rose said, with another kind of grimace. She was feeling a lot more like herself, now, enough for embarrassment to flourish and grow.

She’d fainted.

They weren’t back in the same universe one hour that she was _fainting_ on him, forcing him to cradle her like a weak little thing in the middle of the street.

“Hypoglycaemia, of course,” he noted, squinting his eyes as he took in this information. “Good thing I always have one of those on me.”

He was moving, then, extracting the yellow fruit from one of his inside pockets, brandishing the banana with a bit of a triumphant smile, an ‘ _I told you so_ ’ that’d been years in the making.

They turned their heads in unison as a familiar voice pierced the air further down the street, only now realising that their Bride had run off once more; she couldn’t be blamed, considering the circumstances. From the sound and look of it, she was back to trying to get herself a taxi, money or no money.

Rose sensed the Doctor’s hesitancy, saw it on his shifting features, along with his sense of responsibility for this stranger in white; he found himself torn between two situations that required his attention.

Well decided on proving him that she had not become absolutely useless during their time apart, she made to get back on her feet. “I can stand, now,” she prompted him.

He helped her at once, his hold on her arms sturdy, as if reluctant to let her go. Her legs were wobbly, and she felt lightheaded still, but most of her dizziness had passed.

She took the phone out of her pocket, holding it out for him to take. He stared at it, his knitted brow relaxing in surprise.

“A _smartphone_?” He asked, searching her face again. She knew what he was implying. Smartphones had not yet been released in this universe, and the model in her hand was _not_ a first generation. “Rose…” he spoke her name softly, almost too much so. “How long was it, for you?”

She shook her head, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Long enough,” she replied with a catch in her voice, forcing herself to hold his gaze, refusing to show any more sign of weakness. She shoved the phone against the hand that still held both fruit and screwdriver. “Go give it to her,” she told him. “I’m _fine_ ,” she repeated before he could ask. “Just go!”

After another half-second of hesitation, the Doctor swapped her phone for his banana.

He was shouting Donna’s name, then, sprinting down the street at top speed, a sight Rose had missed as much as she’d missed the feel of his hand in hers.

Thinking things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Rose started to walk.

…

“It’s a flipping _robot_!!” Donna yelled.

Although she knew it wouldn’t budge, Rose attempted to roll down the car’s window again, unable to just sit there and do nothing. “I’ve noticed, yeah.”

Things had actually managed to get worse.

Six minutes ago, she’d been eating a banana. She was now trapped in a speeding taxi with a terrified Bride, driven by a scavenger robot that evidently did not intend on driving them to church. Considering what had brought them to Earth the last time Rose had encountered them, and what they’d planned on doing, this did not bode well for Donna…

…who was now slapping both her hands against the rear window, screaming at every single car they were passing. “Help me!!! I’ve been kidnapped by a robot!!”

“They can’t help us!” Rose tried to shush her, her head aching from everything that had happened in the last hour, heart thumping against her skull and inside her ears. She may have fainted only minutes ago, the food _had_ done her some good, and there really was nothing like a chase to get your blood pumping.

She couldn’t _think_ , though. Couldn’t come up with anything.

They were trapped in a taxi. She had no weapon, no resource, not even a phone anymore. She couldn’t understand how she’d gotten here.

She’d joined him and Donna; she remembered the Bride desperately trying to get a hold of a family member, leaving similar, crazy-sounding messages on each of their voicemails. He’d said something about needing to get money, told her to stay near Donna. And Rose _had_ stayed by her side, even as she started stopping people on the street, begging for a ten or a twenty.

She’d been distracted by a familiar sight, then, one that had caused her stomach to clench with dread; she’d recognised them at once, calling out his name in warning, just in time, too. He’d been calling out her name, too, followed by Donna’s, frantically pointing behind her. Next thing she knew, she was jumping in the car after Donna.

And there she was. Trapped.

The moment she heard the loud _THUMP_ somewhere on the road behind, Rose knew what she would find. Watching as the TARDIS made her way in between speeding cars still turned out to be one of the strangest things she’d witnessed in her life, and she’d seen quite a few of those these past few years.

“You are kidding me.”

As Donna stared dumbfounded at the hovering, teetering ship, Rose unceremoniously half-climbed over her gown to press both her hands against the glass. The Doctor was standing precariously at the TARDIS’ entrance, mouthing at her to open the door.

“It’s locked!”

There was a flash of blue, and the window came down with a snap.

“Open the door!” He instructed again, clinging to the doorjamb as his ship toppled dangerously. “You two got to jump!”

Rose made to do just that, but Donna slapped her hand away. “Are you blipping _mad_?” She shrieked, now pushing Rose back to her side of the car. “We’re on the motorway!”

There was an odd, crackling noise at the front of the car, followed by the smell of fried circuits, and Rose knew their abductor had just stopped being a problem.

“We can’t stay in here!” Rose shouted back, more to be heard over the deafening sounds of cars and straining TARDIS than anything else.

“She’s right, Donna!” The Doctor was yelling. “Whatever that thing is, it needs you, and whatever it needs you for, it’s not good, so come on! Open the door and jump!”

But Donna had pressed both her hands against her temples in panic, shaking her head, repeating “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

Rose stared at her, at this stranger who’d done nothing but yell at her and the Doctor. She was a good judge of character, though, always had been; when the Doctor had pleaded Donna to come back and help him, she had done just that.

Rose grabbed one of her wrists, squeezing tightly, forcing her hand away from her face until Donna was looking at her. “Yes, you can,” she told her calmly, almost sternly, knowing only strong words would snap her out of her frightened state. “Ten minutes ago, you were shouting orders at the last Time Lord in existence, and making him _cower_ from you. Now you’re telling you’re gonna let this stop you from getting back to your family?”

Donna was listening, eyes wide with fear, overwhelmed by everything that had been happening to her. “What if…What if I fall?” She pleaded.

Rose tightened her grip on her wrist, refusing to even blink. “Trust him,” she told her, point blank. “He will catch you. The Doctor always catches you.”

As she said those words, the memory of falling toward the Void rushed through her, as it so often did in nightmares.

She heard his broken voice in her head, his _screams_ as he watched her fall to her death.

Unable not to, Rose looked away from Donna’s eyes, her gaze finding his across the gap. Across the void. 

He couldn’t possibly have heard her, not with the noise surrounding them. Yet the look on his face as he clung to the TARDIS’ sides told her he _knew_ ; he knew what lie she’d told on his behalf.

 _It’s not a lie_ , she thought with all her might. _It’s never been a lie._

Their eye contact broke as the TARDIS jerked violently, forcing Rose to refocus on Donna, who seemed to have calmed down ever so slightly.

“Donna.” He’d called out her name, almost _begged_ her to look at him. When she did, he extended a hand. “Trust me.”

Within the next thirty seconds, the door was opened, and Donna was leaping out of the car into his open arms.

Rose watched as the TARDIS rose away from the moving traffic, quite aware that she’d been left behind in a car that was being driven by a malfunctioning android. Before she could start panicking herself, the blue box was zooming back down, doors now closed, but _there_ nonetheless.

Seconds stretched, and hours seemed to pass before they swung open again – although her brain was adamant that it’d been a minute, at most.

He looked windswept, crazed, and more than a little sweaty, definitely out of breath now, eyes boring into hers.

“Just keep pressing down!” He shouted, keeping his eyes fixed on hers as he gave instructions to Donna, getting himself ready again, one foot on the wood panel, both arms extended toward Rose.

“ _I’m bloody pressing!”_

While time had lengthened as she waited for him to reappear, it seemed to refuse to slow down in the slightest, now that she had to do something as trivial as jumping out of a speeding car. You’d think that as a Time Lord, he’d have figured out a way to tweak things a little.

“Come on, Rose Tyler,” he said, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, just loud enough for her to hear. “You’ve already jumped between two universes, today. This gap is about ten trillion times smaller.”

She couldn’t help it.

She let out a breathless, terrified laughter as she prepared her body to leap. “Shut up,” she ordered him, and he smiled, one of these smiles that always went through her like a dagger.

And for the second time today, Rose defied death and jumped into his arms.

They fell into the TARDIS in a heap of tangled limbs and messy hair. She barely felt the impact, as he absorbed the brunt of it, barely heard him shout “Pull now!” at Donna (whatever that meant), despite his mouth being so close to her head.

They lay on the ground then, one of her ears pressed to his chest, letting herself be soothed by the double drum of his hearts...until he started coughing beneath her, a weird kind of cough, half spitting, half trying to free his airways.

That’s when she realised most of her hair was covering his face, and he was choking on it.

“Sorry,” she breathed out as she tried to straighten up…and failed.

Her hands had successfully gone to press the ground on both sides of his head, and she’d ordered her arms to push her upper body off his. Her trembling limbs protested at this point, already crashing from the insane adrenaline high she’d experienced while outside, and she fell back heavily against him.

She did manage to raise herself enough to free most of her hair from his mouth and nose, her messy strands soon cascading around their heads instead. Their faces remained closer than faces were meant to be, their breaths mingling as their gazes met and locked.

Despite how numb and cottony her entire body felt, Rose became quite aware of _his_ body pressed beneath hers; she’d ended up straddling him in her fall, chest to chest, hips to hips, and…else. While one of his hands had gone to grasp her hip, the other one had taken a hold of her thigh.

She knew his body was and would always be colder than hers, but she could have sworn heat was now seeping from his palms and fingers, seeping right through the fabric of her clothes, and through the skin below.

His breath, too, was hot against her face.

_SLAM!_

Rose’s gasp of surprise quickly turned into a groan of pain.

Something metallic had hit the ground, causing the Doctor to instinctively sit up, forgetting that she was _right there in his face_ , which resulted in both their foreheads coming into contact. Hard.

She heard him babble a stream of excuses, repeating one too many times that he was sorry, _so sorry_ , somehow managing to get them both back on their feet without Rose processing any of it at all.

“It’s not my flipping responsibility to fly that mad blue box of yours while you’re having a bit of a snog, Spaceman!”

“We were not-” He started, as Rose tried: “We really didn’t-”

“SHUT IT.”

And shut it, they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll be able to keep up the weekly updates until it's done; next part will have a lot less action and a lot more 'characters talking to each other and things', as I'll be revisiting a couple more scenes from The Runaway Bride (one might just be the 'wedding' reception :p). Let me know what you think, any feedback is welcomed!


	3. III.

III.

When Rose categorically refused to let him perform a ‘thorough exam’ on her down in the infirmary, the Doctor seemed mildly surprised; even Donna rolled her eyes at how clueless males from any species apparently were. 

Choosing warm clothes over a medical exam, Rose soon found herself walking toward her old room instead. She felt a pang in her chest when she realised she was thinking about it as a thing from her past. It had taken her months to feel comfortable in the room she’d chosen for herself at the Tyler’s mansion, refusing to call any of it _home_. And now that she was back here, it felt odd; _she_ felt odd.

Out of sync.

It didn’t get any easier when she entered the room, and found it to be exactly the way she’d left it months ago, discarded clothes, used makeup wipes, unkempt bedsheets and all. Not that she’d expected to find out he’d turned her room into some kind of shrine, with a candle lit, blown-up picture of her framed on her dresser, but this absence of _anything_ different was unnerving.

Not for the first time today, Rose wondered how long it had been for him. Had it been such a small amount of time that he hadn’t gotten around to emptying her room yet? Or had it been weeks, months even, as it’d been for her, and he hadn’t had the hearts to even come close to her door?

Everybody reacted differently to grief, she knew that much. She remembered Mickey after his gran had suddenly died, refusing to throw away the leftover chicken pie she’d made a couple days prior to her death.

Rose forced herself to move and rid herself of her damp clothes. Why should it matter anyway, how long had passed for him? He’d gone as far as finding a way into her dreams, to tell her of a place where they could meet one last time, under the light of a dying sun.

A sun he’d been killing on her behalf.

She picked clothes at random at first, only longing for something dry, but she did put on one of her favourite hoodies in the end, deciding to leave her leather jacket behind; she doubted it would ever stop smelling of seashores.

She put on some good running shoes, too (just in case), and hurriedly put her hair up in a messy ponytail. She felt her face warm up as she did so, remembering brushing it off the Doctor’s face as she lay on top of him.  Although she’d been too distracted to realise it at the time, she now couldn’t stop thinking about how he could have done it himself easily enough, yet had chosen to keep his hands on her instead.

Feeling positively warmer, Rose escaped her bedroom, trailing her fingers upon the humming coral of the ship as she made her way back to the main level. She wasn’t surprised to find the room deserted; he’d said it would be best to give the TARDIS at least a couple hours before asking her to do anything strenuous again.

When she opened the door, she found herself sweeping loose hair from her eyes within moments, caught unaware by strong winds; they’d obviously landed on top of a tall building. She spotted the Doctor and Donna, sitting at edge of the roof, feet dangling.

She took in the scene as she approached, everything about them quite different from everything she’d witnessed about the pair until now. He’d taken off his suit jacket and offered it to her; although the wind was carrying the sound of their conversation away from her, Rose could tell it was much more relaxed than any exchange they’d had so far.

Truth be told, they looked rather chummy.

She was still a few meters away from them when the Doctor abruptly turned his body away from Donna to face Rose, looking up at her with the most genuine of grin. She had to smile back, feeling oddly shy, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. Before she could say anything, he’d sprung to his feet and leapt towards her.

“Brilliant, how are you feeling?” He half-exclaimed, half-asked, before carrying on without giving her a chance to answer: “You take a seat, have a bit of a chat with Donna, she’s quite nice at the moment, a lot less shouty.”

He was already halfway to the TARDIS when Rose managed a reply, in the form of a question. “Where’re you off to?”

He merely beamed at her. “Nothing to worry about, I’ll be back in a tick!” And in he went.

Aware that there was no point in trying to figure him out, Rose walked to the edge of the roof, taking his recently vacated spot at Donna’s side. The Bride was much quieter indeed, her eyes lost on the city.

“You alright?” Rose asked her.

It took her a few seconds, but Donna eventually gave a vague shake of her head and shrugged. This simple movement caused the jacket to start slipping off Donna’s shoulders; one of her hand grabbed at it as she let out a huff.

“God, he’s skinny,” she said, scrunching up her nose as if skinny people were rude for even existing. “I dunno how you cope with it. I’d always be afraid of snapping him in half.”

“He’s stronger than he looks,” Rose replied without thinking. When she became aware of the connotation in both their statements, she looked at Donna, who’d raised an eyebrow. Heat rushed to her cheeks again. “I didn’t meant it like _that_ ,” she hurriedly added. “We’re not even…that’s not what…” She let out a frustrated sigh, noting Donna’s new expression, lips pinched in a sceptical smile.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” she stated, wisely.

Rose would not give up this easily. “He literally _is_ stronger than he looks, though. He might look like a regular bloke, but he’s not. His body…it’s not wired the way humans are. For one thing, he’s got two hearts.”

“Two hearts?” Donna repeated, taken aback. She quickly reverted back to making that slightly put off face again. “Anything else he’s got two of?”

Rose’s throat began to constrict, as her own, lone heart squeezed inside her chest, her hands clenching into fists inside her hoodie’s pockets. It took less than a second for her conscious mind to catch up with what her subconscious had brought up, remembering those exact same words being said by a woman of about the same age.

The tone had been different, her mum more curious than put off by the idea at the time, but it’d been close enough.

Too much, too soon, as some would say.

“Sorry, I was only teasing.”

Rose forced herself to focus back on Donna, who looked rather sympathetic, now. Rose shook her head a little, looking away again. “T’s fine,” she said quietly.

And it would have been fine, except that her gaze managed to stop _exactly_ on her old neighbourhood, recognizing the Powell Estate even from this up high. The lump in her throat grew more painful, and it became harder to keep the wind from making her eyes watery.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t do this. _Mope_. Not within her first couple hours back with the Doctor, at least. But once again, a grieving mind had a mind of its own. She’d learned the hard way these past few months that the more you tried not to think about something, that very thing took over your every conscious thought.

Nothing came free of charge in this universe or the next. She’d been reunited with her Doctor, but it’d been at a steep emotional cost.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Donna sounded a bit worried, now, her free hand coming to rest on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Rose met her gaze again, and saw honest concern; she realised then that this kinder, soft spoken person who was worrying about a stranger’s wellbeing when she’d just missed her own wedding was her real first meeting with Donna.

Rose offered her a small smile, shaking her head a little as she tucked some wild, fluttering strands behind her ear. “It’s nothing. I’ve come a long way, is all.”

Donna gave her shoulder another squeeze before dropping her hand, pursing her lips again. “I gathered that much, in between all that nonsense you two keep on uttering. Did you really come from another universe?”

“Yeah,” Rose said, looking away again, although she made sure to keep her eyes on the horizon ahead instead of focusing on the city below. “This planet Earth is my home world, though.”

Donna snorted a little, causing Rose to raise an eyebrow with a bit of a frown. “You talk like him,” Donna explained. “ _This planet Earth is my home world_. Who even says things like this?”

“Space travellers do.”

Both women gave a similar small start at the sound of the chipper, joyful voice. The Doctor had once again seemingly reappeared out of nowhere, already settling down on the other side of Donna.

“You better put that on,” the Doctor said to Donna, holding out what looked suspiciously like a wedding ring.

“Oh, do you have to rub it in?” Donna interjected.

“Those creatures, down there? They can trace you. I turned this into a bio-damper. Should keep you hidden.” He took her hand in his, smoothly putting the band onto her fourth finger. “With this ring, I thee bio-damp.”

Donna wriggled her fingers out of his hand, nodding her head sharply toward Rose. “Tad inappropriate, mate, doing that in front of your significant other.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” He exclaimed, skilfully ignoring all her insinuations while not bothering to correct any of them. He was reaching for something he’d kept concealed at his side, soon holding it out across Donna’s lap for Rose to take.

Rose let out a small gasp, equally surprised, delighted and amused by the offer. “You didn’t!” She grabbed at it at once.

“Oh yes I did,” he seemed rather pleased with himself.

He could be, Rose thought as she stuffed several warm, perfectly crisp chips into her mouth. She wanted to ask him _where_ and how he’d managed to get such high quality chips on such short notice with a malfunctioning TARDIS, but she was too busy chewing on the wondrous food.

“You two are _weirdos_ ,” Donna noted, her gaze going from one to the other. “He gives _me_ a wedding ring, while all you get are chips, yet you make it look like you got the better deal.”

“’cause m’have.” Rose somewhat replied.

The Doctor gave an innocent shrug of his shoulders. “She really loves chips.”

Rose made a sound of approval, her last contribution for the next few minutes.

She made quick do of the chips, also accepting the thick looking drink the Doctor held out for her, obviously a smoothie of some kind (she’d learned not to ask), meant to provide her with every nutrient her body had been lacking. She listened as they discussed what might be causing scavenger robots to go after Donna.

“That’s weird,” he said after learning of her job title, scanning her with his screwdriver. “I mean, you're not special, you're not powerful, you're not connected, you're not clever, you're not important.”

Rose almost choked on her food, a noise of protest rising in her throat; as the Doctor’s companion, one of her tasks had been to insure he wouldn’t behave like an insensitive _arse_ when interacting with people while his genius brain was too busy figuring something out to worry about social etiquette. He’d gotten better at it during their time together, but all of her good work had apparently flown out the TARDIS’ doors in her absence.

Before she could reach across and give him a good punch on the shoulder, Donna reminded her that she didn’t need any defending, slapping his bleeping hand away. “Tell me, Spaceman, those two hearts of yours, how do you think they’d cope with you suddenly falling off a very tall building?”

There was a pause, as all three of them envisioned the Doctor being thrown off the edge.

“What kind of secretary?” He resumed, a bit more meekly.

“I’m at HC Clements. It’s where I met Lance. I was temping.”

Rose remained quiet as Donna recollected how she and her fiancé had met and gotten engaged, exchanging a look with the Doctor as the Bride told her tale. Donna seemed genuinely in love with Lance, her voice and demeanour softer and brighter as she spoke of him, but something felt off about her story.

“Anyway, enough about my CV,” she eventually said, just as Rose sipped the last of her drink. “Come on, it's time to face the consequences. Oh, this is going to be so shaming. You space dumbos can do the explaining. I had this great big reception all planned, too. Everyone's going to be heartbroken.”

…

As Donna had put it, in so many words and several times in a row, they’d had the reception without her.

Brief chaos had ensued, as everyone hassled her and tried figuring out what had happened to her, but all it took was some fake, dramatic crying, and Donna was safely back in her fiancé’s arms, people ‘awing’ and applauding, while Rose and the Doctor exchanged another look.

Humans _were_ strange creatures.

Before long, the room was full of music and laughter again, people eating, chatting, dancing and drinking. Even the Doctor couldn’t resist getting himself a slice of wedding cake; Rose declined his offer to get her one, feeling quite full now. They soon found themselves standing at the edge of the dancefloor, observing the mass of twirling people, both looking at Donna and her almost-husband.

“I still ‘on’t ‘et it,” the Doctor was saying, having just shoved another piece of chocolate cake into his mouth. He hadn’t bothered with a spoon. “I really can’t see anything special about her. _Ow_.” Rose had elbowed his ribs. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” she reprimanded him with a disapproving scowl. “You can’t tell me she’s not special. I’ve never seen you so skittish around anyone before.”

“She’s got personality, I’ll give you that,” he concurred with a grimace, shaking his head, both of them watching as Donna roared with laughter in her fiancé’s arms. “I didn’t mean to imply she’s not brilliant, you know me, I think all living things are brilliant in their own way. Well, most living things, anyway, even those without a consciousness, just striving to survive. Well, maybe not pears, pears are not really what I’d – _Ow_.” She’d elbowed him again. “Will you stop doing that?”

“You’re rambling,” is all she said, attempting to look stern, but his lips were slightly pursed in the shadow of a pout, as if deeply hurt by her repeated abuse, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning.

God she’d missed him.

“Let’s google her,” Rose said, then.

“Goggle her?” He said, confused. “I don’t think any amount of staring will give us constructive answers.”

“ _Google_ ,” she repeated with a chuckle. “Early twenty-first century search engine?”

“Ohhhh,” he ruffled the hair at the back of his head, grimacing a little. “It’s a bit loud in here,” was all he could think to say.

Rose only smiled up at him, her heart full, gently bumping his shoulder with hers. “Still got my phone?”

He briefly moved away to put his half-eaten piece of cake down on a vacated table. When he resumed his position next to her, he made sure their sides were still pressed up against one another, causing Rose to bite down on another beaming smile. He propped his specs onto his nose, swiftly extracting her phone from one of his pockets.

They both watched as he pressed the ‘Home’ button, causing her lock screen picture to flash bright in the dimmer light of the reception room. Rose’s smile froze on her lips, as she stared at her parents.

She’d taken it only a few weeks ago, on the very day her mum had found out she was expecting. It was a generic shot, really, both their postures and smiles a bit forced, as those always were when someone knew they were being photographed. But Pete was behind Jackie, his arms around her, their clasped hands pressed upon her stomach, and despite the posed look of it all, their eyes twinkled with sheer delight.

Rose herself had looked forward to the arrival of this younger sibling, the thought of it the first real joy she’d felt since Canary Wharf.

There was a soft touch upon the back of her hand, his fingers gently trailing the skin; his free hand had gone down between them to find hers. Wordlessly, he slipped his fingers between hers, and she let him, welcomed him, returning the pressure as soon as he began to squeeze.

 _I’m sorry_ , he told her without a single word, not even a glance, as she was still looking at the picture, yet she felt how genuine he was.

Rose closed her eyes, unable to completely push back the sudden feeling of loss that had taken hold of her; she focused on these other feelings, instead, on that relief and that thrill that made her heart speed up over and over again, all of it caused by his presence by her side, by his body leaning against hers, by the feel of his skin upon her skin, his thumb caressing that place between finger and thumb.

She focused on him.

 _No regret_ , is the emotion she sent his way, and the gentle warmth that soon wrapped itself around her heart let her know he’d felt it.

When she reopened her eyes, she was grateful to see he’d opened up the phone’s browser and was already typing Donna’s full name into the search engine. Nothing much came out of it, as it seemed to be a fairly common name, and the fact was, this particular Donna Noble hadn’t done anything special enough to be discernible from the rest.

At least not yet.

Without needing any prompting, the Doctor was modifying the search, looking up HC Clements instead. When they read who the sole proprietor was, they looked at each other.

“Torchwood,” he stated.

“Can’t be good,” Rose said.

There was a sudden, relative silence in the room, and it took Rose a moment to realise that the music had stopped.

“Special request from the Bride,” came an amplified voice, and Rose’s eyes stopped on the man who stood on the other side of the room with a microphone. He was holding out a piece of paper, frowning at the words written on it. “ _For all the lovers out there, especially…”_ he paused… “ _especially…space weirdos who are quite helpful when you find yourself in a tight spot._ Alrighty then,” he shrugged, pressing a few buttons, and the music resumed.

A much slower kind of music.

Rose searched the crowd and quickly found Donna, who’d already wrapped herself around Lance, many other pairs imitating them on the dancefloor. When Donna saw Rose looking at her, she gave her the most obnoxious of winks and a thumbs up. Glancing up at the Doctor, Rose saw him looking at Donna, too, with the smallest of frown.

She found herself blushing within seconds, feeling the sudden heat pooling in her cheeks. Some of it was embarrassment, at being put on the spot like that, but most of it was due to the fact that her hand was still clasped in the Doctor’s, and what she could feel from him was _not_ rebuttal.

When he looked down at her, the flush went up a notch, but she did not look away.

“Think that’s her way of getting back at us?” she tried, attempting to sound humorous.

He tilted his head. “Sounded more like a _thank you_ to me,” he noted, unblinking and _god_ she’d forgotten how much she liked the sight of him in those glasses. “Shall we?”

She stared back. “You don’t dance.”

He _did_ pout this time. “Rose Tyler, I thought we’d settled that argument months and months ago.” As he spoke, he actually started pulling her toward the dancefloor, casually slipping her phone back in his pocket, swiftly settling his free hand upon her hip.

They had indeed. She fleetingly remembered dancing with him inside the TARDIS; it had been all very different, then. _He_ in particular.

“This is _slow_ dancing,” she felt the need to clarify, stunned by how straightforward he was being about this.

He seemed unphased by her lack of active participation at the moment, happy to take the lead, not yet dancing, but quite obvious about where he’d like her to put her arms. When he gently brought each of her hands up to his shoulders, and she left them there, he smiled down at her. Placing a palm upon her lower back, he pressed, causing her to move closer, much closer, her arms instinctively wrapping themselves loosely around his neck.

“I do know how to slow dance,” he said, his face very close to hers. “And I think you do, too. Unless you don’t want us to.”

Oh she very much wanted them to.

She’d been quite willing to perform all kind of dances with him for a very long time, and she had the nagging feeling he knew just how consenting she was about it all.

But _this_ alone was almost too much, after months spent without him. They’d hugged before, many times, had had their bodies this close on various occasions, but this felt…different.

“T’s not that,” she breathed out, extremely distracted by the feel of his hands on her hips, not to mention what the smell of him was doing to her. “It’s just…we don’t usually…do this.”

He kept his eyes locked with hers, eyes that were ever so slightly magnified by his spectacles, and she felt herself be pulled, as if every year he’d lived had added another level of depth to his gaze, and at this moment, she was falling through every single one of those years.

This phenomena was nothing new; she’d experienced it before, mainly when his irises were blue, his former self more prone to bouts of introspection. She almost forgot, sometimes, how long he’d lived, fooled by his youthful, freckled face, his twinkling brown eyes, and the bounce in his steps.

There was no bounce, now, not even  a trace of a spark, as she stared and he let her.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice low. “We don’t. Usually.”

She didn’t realise he’d brought one of his hands up to her face, until he was gently tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear. As he did so, his fingertips brushed her temple; the gesture may have been intentional, just as it may not.

All that mattered was that it happened, sharing the briefest of connection, and the bond between their minds increased tenfold upon tenfold during that one second, as he let her _feel_.

Rose couldn’t breathe for a moment, once again unable to respond when he moved; both his arms came around her, properly hugging her to him, feeling his breath near her ear, the clasp of his arms as he tightened his embrace and held her tighter and tighter.

_I lost you._

That’s what she’d felt; his own experience of that gaping, throbbing emptiness she’d left behind when she’d been torn from him.

_I lost you._

She’d felt this impossible, inflexible certainty that she was gone, gone for good, never to come back, his ten lives and his damned intellect forbidding him to even hope.

_I lost you I lost you I lost you…_

Having regained control over her body, Rose keenly responded to his embrace, burrowing her face against his neck, the way she had earlier on the beach, understanding now that this had never been about dancing.

She held him to her, sharing his desire to feel the other close, to hold on so tightly that it almost _hurt_.

One of her hands had found the back of his head, her thumb ruffling through his hair in a soothing caress; eventually, gradually, their grip loosened on one another, although none of them really moved, unwilling to create any kind of distance between them. Rose did become aware of the music again, only when she realised that they’d started to shuffle ever so slightly, following the slow rhythm of the beats.

As soon as she became aware of those beats, pulsing in her ears as well as deep within, her own heartbeat became impossible to ignore, along with _his_ strong pulse against her skin, where her face rested upon his jugular.

And just like that, she was intoxicated, drunk on the feel him of him, on his smell and his touch and his breath. She changed her caress, her thumb stopping its slow circles, letting the other four digits move through his thick hair, fingernails lightly grazing his scalp.

It was a test of sort, curious to see what reaction she’d get from him, if she got any at all, aware that up until now, the Doctor had kept their relationship platonic…as platonic as a relationship between two tactile people could be.

Rose did _not_ expect such a response.

At the light feel of her nails, he shuddered almost violently, his arms suddenly tightening around her again, pressing her firmly to him, erasing any remaining space between their hips. As he clenched the fabric of her hoodie into a tight fist, pulling her infinitesimally closer, his forehead came to rest upon her shoulder, only inches away from her neck, and the breath of air he let out was louder than a sigh.

She’d started a chain reaction, like dominos set into motion, the feel of his breath upon the sensitive skin of her neck causing her to shudder in turn. Waves of tingles and shivers were rushing through her body as a result from being held this close, this intimately, her hand grasping at his hair now, the pull of her fingers and the graze of her nails much more pronounced this time, and she swore she heard him breathe out her name.

Predictably enough, she soon found herself with her lips pressed to his neck, marvelling at the coolness of his skin against hers, at the enticing scent of him, all of his pores releasing a cocktail of pheromones meant to drive her wild. Just as she was about to take things a step further by opening her mouth, he suddenly tensed against her.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, grabbing at her shoulders and _pushing,_ successfully freeing himself from her grasp. While his hair was dishevelled and he appeared more flushed than she’d ever seen him, his eyes were not even on her, looking at something behind her instead. “Brilliant! Let’s go take a look!” He said, as if continuing a conversation he’d been having in his head.

Before Rose could even begin to understand what the _hell_ had just happened (a recurring situation today), he had grabbed her hand and was pulling her toward a man and his video camera.

Three minutes from now, she would be putting her running shoes to good use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sensing...two or three more parts (one of them being the M rated one, to make up for being a tease). Do let me know what you think :))


	4. IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m once again using quite a few lines of dialogue straight from the episode, so just a reminder that I own nothing Doctor Who related except a Ten funko pop my sister gracefully gave me!

Staring at the cackling spider-like alien and at the man standing next to it, Rose couldn’t decide which of the two was the most repulsive.

Realistically, they should have expected betrayal.

She used to have an infallible faith in people, a desire to trust and help anyone or anything that passed her way – even Daleks. But the past few years had taught her better. One of the things she’d learned was that, no matter how amazing and extraordinary humans could be, too many of them would irremediably revert back to selfishness and greed.

The moment Lance started laughing, the Empress hissing in unison, Rose understood, maybe a second later than the Doctor. Unsurprisingly, despite Lance admitting to being a traitor, Donna remained in shock, unbelieving.

“How did you meet him?” the Doctor asked her, much more quietly than he had when talking to the Empress.

“In the office.”

“He made you coffee,” the Doctor continued.

Donna’s confusion worsened. “What?”

“Every day, I made you _coffee_ ,” Lance reminded her, with a hint of exasperation.

“You had to be dosed with liquid particles for over six months,” the Doctor explained.

Understanding seemed to dawn on Donna at last. “He was poisoning me.”

Rose’s disgust increased when Lance had the _nerves_ to joke about it, scoffing at his bride-never-to-be when she tried to appeal to his sentiments by reminding him of their engagement.

“I had to say yes,” he replied, a mean streak in his voice, now. “And then I was stuck with a woman who thinks the height of excitement is a new flavour Pringle. Oh, I had to sit there and listen to all that yap yap yap. Oh, Brad and Angelina. Is Posh pregnant? X Factor, Atkins Diet, Feng Shui, split ends, text me, text me, text me. Dear God, the never ending fountain of fat, stupid trivia. I deserve a medal.”

Rose could only watch as Donna stood there and let herself be insulted.  The fiery, spunky woman who had _slapped_ the Doctor not five minutes ago was gone, stripped of her ability to speak, along with any self-confidence she may have had. Rose almost heard it, the sound of her heart breaking.

And it made her _furious_.

“Oh, is that what she offered you?” The Doctor was now asking, carrying on his conversation with Lance, more interested in understanding the big picture than in defending the heartbroken woman who stood at his side, defeated. “The Empress of the Racnoss? What are you, her consort?”

“It’s better than a night with her.”

Had Rose had a gun, she might have used it then. She would not have aimed for his heart.

“But…I love you,” Donna said, feebly, seeming to have reached that point where nothing that would be said or done could hurt more than it already did.

Lance made a face. A _patronising_ face. “That's what made it easy. It's like you said, Doctor. The big picture. What's the point of it all if the human race is nothing? That's what the Empress can give me. The chance to go out there. To see it. The size of it all. I think that– ”

Lance stopped abruptly, stumbling backward with a painful cry, having just been hit in the head by a vial of liquid Huon particles. Unfortunately, the vial was too small and the distance had been too great for it to be truly damaging, not even breaking the skin, but it had done the trick.

“What the…” Lance started, both his hands on his painful forehead.

“Do shut up,” Rose snapped, having already grabbed another vial, ready to take aim again. Another thing she’d learned by travelling with a man who despised firearms; anything could become a weapon.

“Are you _serious_?” Lance shouted as the Empress hissed and clicked.

“Oh I am very serious,” Rose proclaimed, incensed. “What I want to know is, who the _hell_ do you think you are? No wait, don’t tell me. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of man sells what little soul he’s got to a giant bug. Ever had a girlfriend before Donna, Lance?” He started to protest but Rose was not finished. “Now I suppose you’re trying to tell me that I’m an idiot, and that I know nothing, and true, you probably have more degrees than me and Donna put together, but you know what? That does not make us stupid. I may know nothing about physics or country locations or whatever Huon particles are, but I do know about people. And the only kind of people that sink low enough to poison someone they pretend to be in love with, and then _laugh_ in their face, are quite literally pieces of shit trapped in human costumes. Actually, no. I’ve met Slitheens that had more heart than you.”

“Rose, I don’t think you should – ” the Doctor tried, but Rose rounded on him this time.

“And _you_ ,” she said, fiercely. “I can’t believe you’d just _stand there_ and let him insult her like that.”

Lance snorted from his perch. “I’m not the only one who got stuck honouring and obeying, eh?” He stopped, cowering when Rose started to aim for his head again.

Rose relaxed her posture, although her face remained set in a grimace of contempt. “You’re disgusting. And naïve. You really thought the Empress of an ancient race of carnivorous aliens was gonna take you off this planet, instead of just killing you once you did your bit? I’d pity you if you didn’t make me sick.”

“Enough with all the human chit-chat!” The Empress half-hissed, half-spat. “I’ve got my key, the doctor-man and the irritable-woman are disposable.”

“ _Irritable_ – ” Rose started to repeat, still irritated indeed. “You wouldn’t be so smug if I had some bug spray on me!” She actually made to move forward, but was immediately pulled back, the Doctor having grabbed a fistful of her hoodie.

“Don’t you dare,” he commanded her, his voice having dropped two octaves, the tone she associated with _The Doctor_ , his least pleasant and most intimidating persona…not that it intimidated her much anymore.

All around and above, scavenger robots in Santa masks were reappearing, all of them holding similar looking riffles.

“Kill these annoying, chattering beings, spare the key!” The Empress ordered her troops.

Donna seemed to snap out of her shock, immediately putting herself in front of Rose and the Doctor, her arms held out as if to shield them. “Don’t you hurt them! I won’t let you!”

“No, no, Donna, it’s all right,” the Doctor had released Rose to grab Donna’s gown instead, pulling her back behind him. “Will you two just _stay put_ ,” he protested.

“Take arm!”

“I’m afraid we got to dash!” The Doctor called out at the Empress and her lackey, giving them one of his two fingers salutes, before opening the vial of Huon particles he himself had kept in his hand, causing Donna to start glowing at once.

Rose sensed more than she saw the TARDIS materialising around them, feeling the ship’s vibrations beneath her feet. This was followed by an uncomfortable shift in her stomach, hit by sudden nausea. The Doctor would probably babble about spatial sickness if she asked.

“What d’you do?” Rose managed to articulate before clapping a hand against her mouth, forcing the chips and smoothie to stay down as he sprawled across the console.

“Simple magnetism between charged particles, common sense, really,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the sound of bullets hitting the ship’s shields. “I reversed what happened to Donna earlier today and brought the TARDIS to her.”

As the Doctor sent his ship into the Time Vortex, Rose’s nausea receded as quickly as it had flared up. He was now jabbering about needing to travel back in time, way way waaaay back, his words directed more toward Donna than her; the Bride had slumped down onto the jump seat. She had conveniently positioned herself so that they were facing her back.

There was nothing much she could do to hide the unmistakable and repeated rise and fall of her shoulders, though.

“Should we…talk to her?”

Rose started a little, a shiver shooting down her spine at the feel of his breath. He’d spoken the words quietly, directly into her ear, having completely invaded her personal space again.

Swallowing hard, she shook her head, feeling her heart breaking a little as she looked at Donna’s shaking shoulders.

Rose knew nothing they could say would help her right now.

“Let’s give her some space,” she said instead, before stepping away from the Doctor, moving to the other side of the console, trying to give Donna at least an ounce of privacy.

Unable not to, she let her fingers trail in between nodes and levers again, feeling the welcoming undercurrent that ran through the TARDIS, her eyes darting from screen to screen, watching as the colours shifted and the symbols morphed. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the Doctor move closer to her, somewhat tentatively this time, not quite daring coming too close.

“You were right,” he said, eventually. “About defending her. That was…very Rose of you.”

She looked away from the screens, meeting his eyes. “I wasn’t just being kind, Doctor. ‘T was the decent thing to do. The _right_ thing to do, and you do know it. Or at least, you used to.”

She didn’t imagine his slight wince, the almost-nervous shift of his jaw, or the way he swallowed, as if he’d been slapped again. Rose wanted to ask him what had happened to him, to make him colder, almost apathetic, the way he’d been when she first met him.

She _knew_ what had happened, though.

“How long was it, for you?” She asked, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the comforting hums of the TARDIS.

He kept his gaze locked with hers, kept her trapped there.

“Long enough.” He’d not only mirrored her words, he’d said them with the same heaviness.

Rose shook her head a little, averting her eyes at last. “You shouldn’t’ve stayed on your own, though,” she couldn’t help but say, softly, not quite daring to add that being lonely never boded well for him or his foes.

Or any innocent bystanders.

“Was I just supposed to replace you?”

Rose met his eyes again, almost tempted to say that he’d done it before, to all his companions. But she saw in his gaze what she’d heard in his quiet words; a barely concealed sorrow, and sheer vulnerability.

He’d cared for them all, she knew that. He’d also replaced them all.

So why hadn’t he replaced her?

There was a jerk, and her stomach twisted again, the tug more familiar than uncomfortable this time as the ship came to a stop. It wasn’t abrupt enough to make her stumble, but strong enough to break their eye contact.

“We’re here,” the Doctor announced, louder than necessary, his eyes decidedly fixed onto the screen. “Donna,” he peaked his head around the console. “We’re about to witness the creation of the Earth. Want to take a look?”

Donna’s shoulders went up, then down. “I suppose…” she answered, trying to sound bored by the idea, despite her voice being thick with tears.

“Let’s take a peak outside, much better view than using the scanner.” He leaped to the doors, opening them wide. “Come on, ladies. No human has ever seen this, you two will be the first!”

Giving Donna time to properly dry her face and compose herself without being stared at, Rose refocused on the Doctor. He was now leaning against the doorjamb, a hand extended towards her. Fingers wriggling.

She moved forward and took his hand, intertwining their fingers and letting herself be pulled, until she was leaning against him the way he leaned against the jamb, instinctively looking out of the opened doors, and the air left her lungs in a rush.

She had seen space before – a given when you travelled with a Time Lord, but never quite like this.

Except for once, maybe.

She guessed there was some universal irony in it all, or some unmovable patterns the two of them had to follow. Her first trip into space, what felt like one or two lifetimes ago, he’d taken her to the destruction of the Earth. She’d watched the Sun dying, had observed, helpless, as chunks of her planet passed in front of her. She’d been too late to watch it die, but not late enough to miss the aftermath; the endless stream of debris, scattered across the skies.

The Doctor’s grip on her hand tightened, and she knew he’d sensed her melancholy. She kept her eyes on the view, though, not quite strong enough to meet his gaze again. “Billions of years to go before that day comes,” he reminded her, quietly “The Sun’s brand new, now. Just beginning to burn. A gargantuan amount of hydrogen and helium, incessantly fusing together.”

“Where’s the Earth?”

Donna now stood right next to her, having joined them at the door. Still, Rose kept her eyes fixed on the view in front of her.

“All around us,” the Doctor said. “In the dust.”

“Puts the wedding into perspective,” Donna sighed. “Lance was right. We’re just…tiny.”

“No, but that's what you do!” the Doctor countered her, enthusiastically, probably trying to make up for being unsupportive earlier. “The human race makes sense out of chaos. Marking it out with weddings and Christmas and calendars. This whole process is beautiful, but only if it's being observed.”

Rose could only agree. There was true beauty in the palette of colours that had been used to paint the cosmos, and she revelled in the grander of _space_ as the Doctor explained how the Earth would eventually come to be, thanks to the immutable force of gravity. Right now, it was all dust and rocks and gas, just as it would be in the end.

Yet it felt so incredibly different.

She could _feel_ the potential energy in all that shifting vastness, as if the infinite that had once run through her veins recognised the infinite surrounding them.

Time went on, silently, as the Doctor had become quiet, too; none of them seemed eager to break the spell. A particularly long stream of glistening dust passed in front of the TARDIS, and Rose once again marvelled at the elegance and majesty of it all. Through their linked hands, she sensed a similar reverence coming from him, the feeling strong, deep, almost dizzying.

Needing to share some of her amazement, Rose finally looked up at him, half-opening her mouth, aware that she’d have to say something quite interesting to drag his focus back to her. As it turned out, she’d barely moved her lips that the words died in her throat, her gaze immediately meeting his.

While she had been watching the skies, he’d been watching her.

She felt herself falling again, falling into the depth of his eyes. She felt almost light-headed, equally overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare, as she was by the strength of his awe. Even now, he seemed to wonder if she was truly real.

And Rose could see it all, reflecting into her Doctor’s eyes. The universe.

Slowly, his fingers released hers; she didn’t suffer the loss of their skin to skin contact for long. His fingers found the hem of her hoodie, and slipped under it. He found the hem of her shirt just as easily, his cool fingertips soon gazing her spine, creating dazzling shivers in their wake.

Rose let out a shaky breath as his palm pressed into the curve of her lower back, gently, yet decisively, pinning her more firmly to him, and her now-empty hand found solace in taking a hold of his jacket, her fingers slipping between buttons, feeling one of them come loose in her grip.

Drawn by the natural gravity of their bodies, he lowered his head, bringing his face so close to hers that she was soon breathing in the air he was breathing out.

“I am standing _right there_ , you know.”

They did not jump apart this time, despite Donna’s tone being as unamused as it had been before. They simply reversed their movements, his face slowly pulling away as he straightened up, her fingers dropping from his jacket. His hand quietly slipped out from under her shirt and hoodie, finding hers again, as she put _slightly_ more distance between their bodies, innocently turning away from each other to look back at the cosmos.

“Oh, look!” Rose exclaimed, a bit too eagerly, pretending her face and entire body weren’t on fire, pointing at the star-shaped ship that had appeared in the sky.

“The Racnoss,” the Doctor noted, before his entire body tensed. “Hold on!” Next second, he’d abruptly pulled away from Rose again, rushing back inside the TARDIS to twiddle with the console. “The Racnoss are hiding from the war. What’s it doing?”

“Exactly what you said,” Donna answered, having ignored the Doctor’s sudden agitation (unlike Rose), her eyes still on the spaceship.

That’s all it took to bring him back at their sides, all three of them watching as the ship began to pull rocks, dust and gas towards it.

“Ohhhh, they didn’t just bury something at the centre of the Earth, they _became_ the centre of the Earth!” He exclaimed, delighted, in a way only the Doctor could be upon discovering that a race of vicious aliens was responsible for the creation of his beloved planet. “The first rock. Brilliant.”

The TARDIS jerked violently, sending all of three of them flying back inside, the doors closing with a bang. The ship whined and groaned in warning as the quakes increased in intensity.

“What was that?” Rose asked, having instinctively grabbed a railing, while Donna, clinging to the jump seat for dear life, bellowed: “What the hell is going on?!”

“Remember that little trick of mine, particles pulling particles?” The Doctor asked, running around the console in a craze, pulling, pressing, twirling as he tried to counter whatever was happening. “Well, it works in reverse. They’re pulling us back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that if I had more time/energy, I would have finished this two weeks ago already. Thank you for your patience, and for your encouragements, it helps a lot!


	5. V.

Over the course of the past few weeks, Jackie Tyler had become slightly more accepting of the fact that, if the device were to work, Rose would leave their universe for good.

She had not, however, put a stop to her repeated attempts at changing her daughter’s mind, coming up with various warnings that all rang along the lines of:

_You know it’s not gonna be all sightseein’ and sweet alien greetin’s, sweetheart! You won’t be back with ‘im ten minutes that you’ll be running for your life or something!_

Or, in this case, have her life hanging by a thread.

Literally.

As Rose stared down at the bottomless pit that extended thousands of miles underneath her, she _saw_ her mum in her mind’s eyes, arms crossed over her chest, pursed lips, and the slow, disappointed shake of her head.

 _Completely barmy_ , she would be muttering.

Rose found herself stifling a giggle, the reaction purely nervous, not to say a bit elated and terrified. For what had to be the fifth time today, she couldn’t quite understand how she’d managed to get herself in this situation.

It had something to do with sticking around a Time Lord and a Bride who had a tendency to get hunted by murderous aliens. One minute she was standing at his side, happily listening to him rambling on, the next she was captured and made to dangle from a giant web.

“What you’re laughing for?” Lance complained, dangling right next to her. “D’you realise we’re about to become spider food?!”

Somehow, it made it worse.

Unable not to, Rose threw back her head against the web, and _laughed_.

 _Running for my life isn’t just part of the package, mum_ , Rose would tell her, even now. _It’s part of what_ makes _the package so appealing_.

She may be facing a rather gruesome death, Rose hadn’t felt this alive in _months_.

When she finally got her demented laughter under control, she was able to hear what the Empress had been saying.

“…star shall come to me, and my babies will be hungry. They need sustenance. Perish the web!”

Next to her, Lance was wriggling again. “Use them, not me! Use _that_ one!” He indicated Rose with his chin. “She’s a complete nutter anyway!”

“Thanks, mate,” Rose rolled her eyes with a leftover chuckle.

Beneath them, the Empress clicked and hissed. “Oh, my funny little Lance! But you have been quite impolite to your lady friend, the Empress does not approve. And while the irritable-woman seems to be rather unstable indeed, she possesses honour and courage. You do not.”

And just like that, Lance was falling, his screams echoed by Donna’s.

Watching him drop to his death put a definite end to Rose’s bout of hilarity, not finding any of this quite as funny anymore – also aware that she was next on the menu.

“My children are climbing towards me, and none shall stop them. So you might as well unmask, my clever little doctor man.”

Rose had known that this would come; she’d travelled with the Doctor long enough to be aware of this Deus Ex Machina complex of his, always saving the day at the last possible moment. Knowing it would happen did not stop her heart from stuttering at the sound of his name, and renewed elation coursed through her when she realised that one of the robots that stood in the staircase across from the web was taking its mask off, followed by the robe.

“Oh well, it was worth a try,” the Doctor said, casually, before looking up at them. “Get ready, you two.”

His sonic screwdriver was already out and pointing their way when Donna started to shout: “What do you m–”

The rest of her question turned into a yelp, as the web that had been keeping them secured began to give way.

“I’m going to fall!!” Donna screamed.

“You’re going to swing! I’ve got you! Rose?”

“Just catch her!” Rose replied as the web snapped and she felt herself fall, her stomach dropping.

Unlike Donna, who yelled through the entire swing, Rose merely wrapped herself more securely around the makeshift rope, muscles memories from years of gymnastics and recent training kicking in, allowing her to cross yet another void safely if not gracefully. She realised long before the end of her swing that she was too low to reach the Doctor, letting go of the web just in time to land with an almost perfect roll.

There was a loud _thud_ behind her, as Donna hit a wall.

“Oh,” the Doctor said, sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Thanks for _nothing_ ,” Donna replied, bitterly, now lying spread eagle on the ground.

Rose quickly joined her, helping her back to her feet.

“The doctor man amuses me!” The Empress hissed-hissed with too much confidence.

The Doctor had not revealed his plan yet, but the stoic look on his face as he stared at the Empress told Rose all she needed to know. He would offer the Racnoss a chance, the way he always did. But one chance was all they would get.

Rose watched and listened as the Doctor disabled the Empress’ robots, made her an offer, which she foolishly declined. Rose remained just as still when the Empress realised she was in the presence of a Gallifreyan, her demeanour changing at once, hatred, anger and fear ringing in her voice.

He was going to kill them, for this planet’s sake, and Rose was going to let him.

Soon, fire erupted around them, Christmas decorations exploding, and litres after litres of water flooded the Empress’ lair, cascading down the pit. In a matter of seconds, the entire place was filled with smoke, steam and _screams._

“My children!” The Empress howled, barely audible over the sound of the rushing water and her screaming offspring. “My children!”

Rose was somewhat aware that she was drenched again, but she was too focused on the Doctor’s frozen form to feel her soggy clothes.

She did feel Donna’s fingers digging into her arm, though.

“You’ve got to stop him,” Donna pleaded. “Please, stop him!”

Rose looked away from the merciless Time Lord, staring at the Bride through a veil of water. Donna’s face was a mask of despair and shock, horrified by the scene. Rose saw herself in that face, herself as she had been, a few years ago, when she’d been innocent enough to believe every creature deserved some pity and compassion.

The Bad Wolf may have turned her into a murderer, wasn’t there a part of her that still believed in mercy, and second chances?

After all, if second chances did not exist, she would not be standing here.

Rose turned away from Donna, looking up again. “Doctor!” she called out. She felt his gaze on her more than she saw it through water and smoke, and she knew she would not need to shout her next few words. “You can stop, now.”

It took him a few seconds, but he seemed to snap out of his trance, moving at last, quickly gesturing them to join him. “Come on, you two, up you go!”

Minutes later, all three of them sat outside at the flood barriers, soaked to the skin; the Thames, on the other hand, did not have much water left in it. They all laughed at the realisation that they had _drained_ the river, their laughter once again having nothing to do with delight or amusement.

There definitely was a strange form of insanity that came with narrowly escaping death.

Their laughter died abruptly when the sky became streaked with falling lights.

“Is that…” Donna began, but she fell silent as understanding dawned on her.

They’d missed the destruction of the star-shaped spaceship, but not the aftermath, a waterfall of debris now burning up as they fell through the atmosphere.

Rose looked away from this mockery of a firework, stricken by a strong feeling of déjà-vu as she looked at the Doctor. His face was turned up to the sky, the fiery trails reflecting in his eyes. Gently, she linked her arm through his, her hand seeking his.

“I gave her a chance,” he said simply, quietly, as if justifying himself.

 _Didn’t I?_ was what she felt through their linked hands.

Rose rested her cheek upon his shoulder, feeling the water-soaked fabric of his jacket against her skin, squeezing his fingers in hers.

“You did,” she answered, just as quietly. “And she didn’t take it.”

They rarely did.

…

By the time they landed the TARDIS right in front of Donna’s house, Rose was feeling relatively cold and uncomfortable again, deciding that she did not dislike many things as much as she disliked wet clothes today. Her latest adrenaline rush definitely was on its way out of her body as well, leaving her feeling bone-tired and slightly shaky.

She felt better when they let Donna out of the ship, and the Doctor decided that the one open doorway was quite wide enough for the two of them to stand in, even if it meant their bodies were once again rather squished together.

Despite her physical discomfort, Rose enjoyed the feel of him against her, one of his arms wrapped around her waist, as if he’d sensed her fatigue and decided to be proactive, in case she fainted again.

“I better get inside,” Donna said, her gaze on her parents’ house. “They’ll be worried.” She did not make a move to cross the street.

“Best Christmas present they could have,” Rose noted, her heart squeezing despite herself, unable _not_ to remember that she would never spend Christmas with her family again.

“Oh, Donna hates Christmas,” the Doctor interjected, chipper, briefly tightening his hold on her, and Rose suspected he was trying to distract her.

It worked, Rose frowning up at him, before offering the same expression to Donna. “What is it with so many of you disliking Christmas.”

“Some Christmases are better than other, I’ll give you that,” the Doctor said, his arm releasing Rose to reach up inside the TARDIS. “Especially when it…” she felt him pressing something up there, saw the flash of light that illuminated the sky overhead. “…snows.”

Seconds later, thick, fluffy snowflakes were falling upon them, causing Donna to gasp in amazement, staring at the night sky with her arms held out, palms up. A flutter of joy spread through Rose, caused in equal parts by the snow, the delighted Bride, and the feel of the Doctor’s arm slowly finding its way back around her waist.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Donna breathed out.

“Basic atmospheric excitation,” he explained, modestly.

When Donna looked back at them, Rose smiled, shrugging a shoulder. “He really loves snow.”

“That I do,” he replied, almost giddily.

Donna was smiling, too, the most sincere smile Rose had seen from her today. “Merry Christmas,” she told them.

“And you,” the Doctor replied, just as warmly. There was a pause, then, before he continued, almost hesitantly. “So…what will you do with yourself, now?”

“Not getting married, for starters,” she said, quietly. “And I'm not going to temp anymore. I don't know. Travel. See a bit more of planet Earth. Walk in the dust. Just go out there and _do_ something.”

Rose knew what he was going to say before he said it, not really sensing it, but feeling the odd tension in his body.

“You could always…” he started, then stopped, looking down at Rose, as if remembering that he wasn’t alone anymore and should probably include her in such an important decision. Rose kept her eyes on Donna, though.

“What?” The Bride asked, although they all knew that she knew.

Rose ended up making the offer. “Come with us,” she said. And she meant it.

She’d shared the Doctor with other companions in the past, and never had a problem with it. She couldn’t quite explain it, but she felt like Donna _belonged_ with the Doctor, in the TARDIS.

A perfect fit.

Rose herself had become genuinely fond of the other woman in the past few hours; some of it was this uncanny ability she seemed to possess when it came to putting the Doctor back in his place, but most of it was just the fact that Donna seemed to be absolutely…fantastic.

And if Rose was given a choice, she would rather not leave behind another person she’d come to care about, today.

But Donna shook her head with a small smile. “No.”

Rose did not have to look at the Doctor to know he shared her disappointment. She was disappointed, but ultimately, she understood.

“Okay,” he said, apparently a bit less understanding than her. He never took rejection well.

“I can’t,” Donna repeated, regretfully, aware that she’d hurt his feelings.

“No, that’s fine,” he said, sounding anything but fine.

“No but really,” Donna insisted. “Everything we did today? Do you live your life like that?”

There was a heavy silence. “Not always.”

Unable not to, Rose scoffed lightly, shaking her head. “Yeah he does.”

“No I d-” he started to protest, before meeting her eyes. She gave him a look, and he half-sighed, half-hmphed. “Fine. Take her side. Better this way, anyway. I can tell how it would be, the two of you constantly ganging up on me.”

“I really couldn’t come, though,” Donna continued. “I can see the appeal, believe me, space travel and all. But putting aside the terrifying aspects of it, with you killing aliens then making it snow by pressing a button, I don’t really fancy playing gooseberry when I just got dumped for a giant spider, on my blipping wedding day.”

The insinuation, which was fair considering the number of times she’d pulled them apart today, was enough to cause Rose’s face to warm up again, decidedly _not_ looking at the Doctor anymore.

“Come on, now!” He exclaimed with a bit too much emphasis, still not bothering to deny anything. “You’ve seen my ship, bigger on the inside! _Loads_ of rooms, and levels, too. No reason for you to stumble on anything you wouldn’t like to see.”

Rose closed her eyes, her face scrunching up as her skin _burned_ in mortification. “We’re not even _like that_ ,” she found herself mumbling, feebly.

Both the Doctor and Donna were the one snorting a little, then, and really, Donna not coming with them _was_ a good thing. This ‘ganging up on the third person’ thing could work in too many ways.

Unable not to, Rose reopened her eyes to look up at him, ready to protest because the last time she’d checked, they were _not like that_ , but the instant she met his gaze, all she could do was close her mouth and blush a little harder.

Something in his eyes made it quite clear that he planned on rectifying that.

Soon.

“You dumbos are adorable, you know,” Donna stated with a sigh, as if she was looking at something endearing yet a bit nauseating, and Rose obstinately stared at a street lamp, feeling the snowflakes melting upon her flushed skin. “I realise I might not have made that clear, with me shouting at you every time you tried having a bit of snog and all. I promise I’ll let you get on with it this time.”

Rose groaned, pressing her forehead against the doorjamb.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” The Doctor asked, calmly, but there was an amused note in his voice.

“Most fun I’ve had today,” Donna answered.

“Good for you.”

Rose’s breath hitched in her throat, unable to keep yet another recent memory from taking over her mind. He’d said these exact words to her only hours ago, back on that beach in Norway.

Her tired brain struggled with the various shifts of emotions and reality she’d experienced today, going from grieved to elated too many times to count, unable to be absolutely certain of what was real and what wasn’t.

Rose shivered, strongly. He felt it, of course, their bodies still pressed together, causing him to tense in response.

“You all right?” He asked, quietly, his voice suddenly close to her ear. His arm had moved from around her waist, his hand now on her back.

Rose nodded against the jamb, keeping her eyes closed, feeling foolish. “Yeah, just…cold.”

And all kind of overwhelmed, not to mention knackered.

He shifted in the doorway, the reassuring pressure of his body disappearing, causing her throat to constrict. It took her a couple seconds to realise he hadn’t moved away, but was simply reaching inside the ship again.

Next thing she knew, something wonderfully heavy was dropped upon her shoulders, and the resulting waft of air filled her lungs with his scent. She reopened her eyes, realising that he’d wrapped his long coat around her in an attempt to warm her up. This extra bit of _him_ caused her to crave for more, already mourning the loss of his body.

Without a word, she turned and moved, until her arms were around him, her cheek pressed to his damp jacket. Despite the thick coat now covering most of her body, she knew it would take longer than that for her body temperature to rise; their embrace helped, though, soothed by the steady sound of his hearts, the feel of his arms so tight around her, his breath almost warm against her hair.

Suddenly remembering where they were, and who was still standing _right there_ in front of them, Rose reopened her eyes, forcing herself to move her head slightly away from his chest. Donna had politely looked away, staring at the falling snow; she was hugging herself, though, obviously cold too, snowflakes beginning to form a rather thick layer upon her bare shoulders and hair.

“Sorry,” Rose breathed out, feeling a twinge of guilt at being so demonstrative under the circumstances. “We’re not usually this…”

Clingy? Mushy?

She couldn’t complete that sentence, as every word that came to her mind sounded like a complete lie.

“Good looking?” The Doctor offered, and Rose stifled a chuckle.

“It’s fine,” Donna said with a dismissive wave of her hand, quickly going back to hugging herself. “I think I get it, you know. I _am_ aware that I pretty much ruined your big, interdimensional reunion thing, or whatever it was that happened on that beach.”

“Naaah,” the Doctor contradicted her at once, his chin still resting upon Rose’s head. “You rather improved it, I’d say.”

Silence settled between them again, the air full of unspoken goodbyes.

“Am I ever going to see you again?” Donna asked, eventually, and Rose forced her breathing to remain deep and slow, hit by another wave of déjà-vu.

“If we’re lucky,” the Doctor said, genuinely. Donna nodded, offering them a brief tilt of her head and a small smile. She started to turn away when the Doctor called her out, and she looked back at him. “Just…be _magnificent_.”

Donna’s smile was more sincere this time, and there were tears in her eyes when she said: “I think I will, yeah.”

She was walking to the front door, then, swiftly, not turning back before she entered the house.

Rose rested her cheek back upon his chest, warmth finally starting to build up under his coat, despite their wet clothes, and she closed her eyes, appeased once more by the double drum of his hearts.

“I’m sorry.”

Rose frowned, and reopened her eyes, as surprised by his words than she was by his low tone. She pulled away, enough to meet his eyes when she looked up, keeping her arms around him.

“What for?” She asked, quietly, tilting her head.

He swallowed hard, looking away with a shake of his head. Despite their proximity, the lack of skin to skin contact didn’t allow her to get a glimpse into his emotions the way she had so many times today. She knew this look, though; a look of self-loathing and guilt.

She understood then that he’d been wanting to do this, apologise, from the moment she reappeared on that beach; that he would have done so hours ago, if he’d been given a chance. But this was the first time they were truly alone today.

Rose slowly unwrapped one of her arms from around him, raising her hand to trail her fingertips upon his clenched jaw. The touch was light, but it was enough, bringing forth a hazy, distant mix of emotions her own heart immediately associated with Canary Wharf.

She saw herself falling toward the Void, like a blurred mirage, felt the remnants of his fear, how he blamed himself for not catching her.

For letting her fall.

Rose’s fingers moved from his jaws to his lips, as if she knew he would try to speak before he did, and refused to hear it. She pressed, then, both with touch and without, a wordless command to remain silent.

She raised her eyes from her fingers upon his lips, her gaze locking with his, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. “Doesn’t matter anymore.” She told him, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here, now, yeah?”

She sensed as much as she saw the shift in him, gradual yet sudden, felt it in the renewed pressure against her fingertips, as well as in her mind. His face, so close to hers already, came down to bridge that gap, that void, until his nose was grazing hers, her lips brushing the top of her own fingers. She let them fall away, bringing them up to the back of his head instead, curling them up in his hair, before gently pulling him down to her.

There was nothing extravagant in that kiss; a simple, almost chaste press of their lips, like a greeting, or a long awaited meeting. He was colder than her, her Doctor, but he was soft and _real_.

She heard him inhaling against her, felt him breathing _her_ in, slowly, so slowly, and Rose shivered at the sensation, more strongly than she had when his lips first met hers. His grip around her loosened slightly as one of his arms unwrapped from around her. A moment later, she felt his hand sink into her wet hair.

He was exhaling, then, right upon her lips, exhaling her name in a shaky breath, and she sensed and felt and _heard_ his gratitude and need.

It woke something in her, the feel and sound of her breathy name, the phantom sensation etched under her skin.

_Rose…_

Her fingers moved in his hair, threading, then clutching, drawing him down to her again with an urgency that had not been present a moment ago. He took her eagerness in stride, took it, then surpassed it.

Gone was the fairytale-like kiss under the snow, replaced by a shuddering yearning that soon had her pressed against the doorjamb with both his hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her deep, and slow, and she responded in kind, his coat halfway to the ground, pinned between wood and flesh, just as she was.

What stopped them was her unforgivable need for air, her survival instincts kicking in and forcing her face away from his as she gulped oxygen down. While her breathing remained loud and shaky for several long (embarrassing) moments, his barely seemed affected at all.

Her hand had dropped from his hair to his chest, though, and she felt the staccato of his thumping hearts beneath her palm, his pulse quicker and more irregular than she had ever felt it.

Her brief oxygen deprivation, combined with the delicious rush of endorphins that only proper snogging could induce, did a number on her nervous system. Rose barely had time to feel lightheaded that her body was becoming ridiculously heavy again, feeling herself slumping down.

She did not go far, the Doctor’s arms back around her, holding her to him, her face pressed against his jacket. She did not faint completely, this time; a feeble consolation.

“Sorry,” she mumbled against the damp fabric, feeling her flushed cheeks get warmer still.

“No need for that,” he said brightly, although his tone was both lower and softer than usual. “It’s quite the compliment, really. Never had this effect on a woman before. Well, not with that particular technique, anyway. Stun guns or strong anaesthetics are usually required.”

She found herself grinning against his chest, but poked one finger against his ribs for good measure, causing him to jerk slightly. “Do shut up,” she told him, before finally looking up at him.

His gaze remained dark despite the smile on his lips, his pupils dilated, his hair deliciously dishevelled. And she absolutely _hated_ her own body, aware that it would not sustain whatever she hoped would come next, not in her current state at least.

Her disappointment and frustration must have shown on her face, because he _smirked_ , then, leaning down to press a light kiss on the tip of her nose, where a snowflake had just landed.

“Rose Tyler,” he said. “I’m afraid it’s past your bed time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, the next part will be rather smutty; I’m keeping it separated because among other things, my little sister implied that she would be traumatised if she read smut written by me, and I try not to affect her psyche any more than I already have when she was a child.
> 
> It _might_ take more than a week for me to post the last part, as those type of chapters always take me longer to write. In the meantime, any feedback is more than appreciated and helpful!


	6. VI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of apologies. One, for the delay - the end of this half-term has been absolutely INSANE at work, including a big governmental inspection hahaahaaaaa so writing had to be postponed. Two...I promised smut, and I WILL DELIVER, but, as it is very often the case with me and my stories, this chapter has turned out...uhm, big. And being an unsatisfied perfectionist, I have rewritten the *whole* thing about three times now. Right now, I'm only (somewhat) satisfied with the part I'm posting now. I'm hoping that getting rid of 3000 words out of 8000 will at least make the rest of the editing faster.
> 
> Anyway, that's a lot of chit chat from me. Enjoy, hopefully :D

VI.

Something felt off.

It did not take Rose long to realise she was bothered by the silence. It was her fifth time back in the TARDIS today, and the ship had never been this quiet.

Granted, it also happened to be their first time here without Donna.

The Doctor could pretend all he wanted that he was ‘fine’, this particular incarnation of his came with the biggest giveaway, in the form of _speech_. A happy Doctor chattered; a nervous Doctor rambled; a worried Doctor pondered, while an angry Doctor ranted.

A _gloomy_ Doctor, on the other hand, was quiet as a clam.

Leaning against one of the coral columns, half-concealed in its shadow, Rose watched him as he stood at the console. He’d discarded of his soaked jacket on their way in, the damp shirt below sticking to his skin, while his hair still stuck out at weird angles, thanks to her earlier ministrations.

If there was one thing this man did not lack, it was charisma, no matter his mood.

This broodier version of him only made Rose want to hold him again; hold him tighter, longer, cradle his head against her bosom and shush his loneliness away.

(Amongst other things)

She knew his sorrow was real, processing the loss of Donna, their brief companion for the day. He was full of contradictions, her Doctor; cold and ruthless at times, yet capable of caring so much and so quickly.

When silence stretched and he carried on tinkering with parts of the console, his brow set, jaw clenched, Rose realised he would not speak again until she did. He hadn’t done as much as throw a glance her way since he’d sent the ship into the Time Vortex.

Deciding she’d let him sulk long enough, she called him out, softly. “Hey.”

Despite her soft tone, he visibly started at the sound of her voice, immediately stopping what he was doing, his head snapping upright to look at her across the console.

From his double take and stunned expression, he appeared to have _forgotten_ that she’d followed him inside the TARDIS.

While others might have taken offense, Rose didn’t, used to the way his mind worked. In his hurry to escape London after leaving another person behind, he seemed to have automatically reverted to what Rose suspected had been his go-to mood since they were separated.

A lone Time Lord, brooding in his TARDIS.

Her suspicions were confirmed a second later when his shock was replaced by the most genuine of grins, his gloom having morphed into delight.

“Hello!” He greeted her brightly, as if she’d literally just appeared in front of him and was the best surprise he’d had in years.

She let out a silent chuckle, shaking her head a little at this loony alien of hers as he swiftly made his way to her. He was scooping her up, then, holding her tight, twirling them around a couple of times as he purred happily against her neck. She indulged him in yet another embrace, all too happy to reciprocate, wondering how long it would take for this strange, elated relief to dissipate, for them to accept the fact that they _were_ back together, in the same universe.

As if he’d read her thoughts – or got a good glimpse of what she was feeling, he gently put her down, his grip loosening, letting their bodies part so their eyes could meet, and Rose was reminded of how volatile his moods could be.

His delighted grin was gone; he did not look upset, but his gaze was intense, unrelenting, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Unable not to, she moved a hand to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair, offering him a small, understanding smile.

He lowered his face to hers, resting his forehead upon hers, his hold on her tightening, as if to ensure once more that she was _real_ ; she let the echo of his emotions wash over her, sensing the lingering traces of his solitude and forced isolation.

 _You shouldn’t have stayed on your own_ , she’d told him earlier.

 _Was I just supposed to replace you?_ He asked in response.

And she got it; she really did.

She’d rarely been _alone_ , in that other universe, her parents or Mickey taking it in turn to keep her company; she’d even become friendly with some of her new co-workers, over there. It hadn’t been enough to keep the loneliness at bay, though.

While she should have been healing and moving on, she’d only missed him more with every passing day.

 _I’m here_ …Rose’s mind murmured to his, proving it by clutching his hair a little bit stronger, breathing in deep, so close to his lips, letting his scent fill up her lungs. _I’m here_ …

She turned her caress into a downward pull, just as he pulled, too, bringing her to him, initiating a kiss that was quite different from the ones they’d shared outside. Slow, and aching, arms tightening, faces and bodies pressed together almost _too_ firmly.

Before long, all ten of his fingers were twisting her hair, her back pinned to the column, and she was intoxicated; intoxicated by the sheer feel of him against her, the pressure of his body so real and strong. This, combined with the relentless intensity of his kiss, resulted in a powerful surge of _want_.

The Doctor reacted to it, tensing briefly against her. One of his hands moved, sliding from her hair, until the pads of his fingers rested upon her temple. The heat came quickly, unexpected and overwhelming, something hot and tingly trickling from his mind to hers.

It spread through her brain like a forest fire, seeping into her bloodstream and spreading through her body just as mercilessly, the warmth going down, deep, and low, _squeezing_.

They’d never really done this before, this telepathy thing of his, if not for a couple of glimpses, and all she could think as she felt herself swell with a rousing pleasure she’d _never_ achieved with this amount of clothes on, was _fuck_ , the sensations so sudden and raw it was almost painful.

Rose clang to his forearms with both her hands, unable to kiss him back, unable to do much of anything beside let out a loud, muffled sound into his mouth, a croaky moan she doubted was very attractive.

As if to prove that point, the warmth abruptly stopped, his fingers slipping from her temple to her cheek, her skin absolutely _boiling_ against his cool skin. When he moved his face away from hers, she stared up at him, gasping for air, unable to decide if she felt more swooned or shocked.

Judging by the look on his face, he definitely felt shocked.

“I…” he started, hoarsely, before grimacing, dropping his hands to her shoulders. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. This was…inconsiderate. I really should have asked.”

She felt him trying to pull away from her, but she tightened her grip on his forearms. “It’s okay,” she panted. She _was_ okay, although she felt uncomfortably aroused now, as if they’d been in the middle of something a lot more stimulating than making out, only to have him stop just when she was getting _right there_. “Didn’t…didn’t expect whatever that was, is all.”

The Doctor grimaced again, bringing a hand to the back of his head, forcing her to loosen her hold on him, resting her palm upon his chest. “It wasn’t supposed…” he began, and she noticed the soft, pink tinge in his cheeks, harder to discern in the bluish light of the TARDIS. Was he _blushing_? “You kind of responded to that sliiiiightly more strongly than I anticipated.”

Oh, he _was_ blushing.

“Why, what’s it supposed to do?” She asked, somewhat more steadily, although her heart kept on hammering against her ears – and else.

“Well,” he started, looking everywhere but at her. “There’s no _concrete_ way of describing it, considering the abstract nature of the connection itself, although, well, I suppose I _could_ find a fitting analogy, as in, let’s say, where two people, two _consenting_ people – or three, three is a bit more tricky but still possible, well in this case two is probably easier to imagine – but if these two people were to get…carried away and indulge in activities that usually involve less clothing, they would typically start with some – ”

He halted, his mind obviously working at top speed, as if understanding what just happened was as primordial as stopping the Racnoss from ascending from the centre of the Earth.

His pause was brief.

“Now that I think about it, since we’re being entirely honest here, or at least one of us is since I haven’t really given you any chance to talk in the past thirty-eight seconds, it’s been a rather long while since I’ve done anything like this, so it’s not completely beyond the realms of possibility that I _might_ have simply overstimulated your nucleus accumbens.”

Apparently done with this particular tirade, Rose waited for him to refocus of her. It only took him an additional five seconds, his eyes eventually shifting back to hers.

She tilted her head, squinting at him. “D’you mean this was…sloppy mental foreplay?”

He shifted his jaws from side to side a couple times, before snapping his teeth together, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout. “Now that’s a tad reductive,” he noted with a matching frown. “But in essence…mmm’yes.”

Unable not to, Rose grinned up at him, her tongue peeking between her teeth. He was still blushing, genuinely embarrassed by his own actions. She could have taken pity on him and dropped it, but the opportunity to tease him was too good to pass.

“So in human words, this would be like…you trying to unzip my hoodie, only to accidently…find yourself with a hand down my pants?”

His eyes rounded at her suggestion, which she’d made in a tone that was far too innocent for the mental image she’d successfully put in both their minds.

“I…” he attempted again, his voice a bit squeaky, and he cleared his throat, having already looked away . “Well. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” She prodded.

He met her gaze again. “Your hoodie doesn’t have a zipper.”

She looked down at her own chest, before looking back up at him. “Quite sure you could find a way to take it off me, though.”

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and neither was he.

“You…are supposed to get some sleep,” he said, bravely, swallowing hard when her hand moved to grab his tie. “We really can’t go on having you faint on me every time your heartrate increases or your bloodstream gets flooded with endorphin and oxytocin. Which, let’s be realistic here, sounds like a likely outcome if I were to indeed think of way to take that hoodie off you.”

She stared at him, reading honest concern in his eyes, strong enough to conceal most of that other emotion that caused his pupils to remain so large. Rose sighed, dropping her eyes to his tie, which she still held between her fingers, so tempted to start tugging on it to loosen it, her insides _pulsing_ with the aching need to reach more of him.

She knew he was right, though. She was likely to pass out again at any given moment, and _fainting_ was not something she’d envisioned as being a part of this.

“It’d be easier if you hadn’t just overstimulated my nucleus cucumber or whatnots,” she mumbled to his tie.

“Nucleus _accumbens_ ,” he corrected her softly. “And I’m sorry, I really am.” He did sound it, too. “Like I said, I should have asked. I won’t do it again.”

She looked up at him, mouth opening in silent affront. “Who said I didn’t want you to do it again?” Seeing his confusion, her face softened into a smile. “I did not dislike it, Doctor. Like, _really_ not.” She felt her own cheeks flush again at the memory of that warmth, and how ruthlessly it had taken over her nervous system. “It just…took me by surprise.”

“Yes, I think that’s the common theme, there,” he conceded with a grimace, although he was smiling again. A moment passed. “Anyhow!” He exclaimed, giving her shoulder an odd little tap. “You should get to bed. I’ll leave you to it, I’ve got plenty of repairing to-”

He never finished his sentence, the entire ship suddenly jerking and toppling sideways. The movement was so sudden that, unsurprisingly, they both ended up sprawled on the ground.

Rose groaned as a result from hitting the grilled floor arse first, the rumble stopping as abruptly as it started. The sound of his sonic screwdriver became clearly audible as he scanned the air, already making to sit up next to her.

The room began to shake violently again, until he was once more hitting the ground.

“ _What_?” he half-exclaimed, half-asked, trying to sit up again.

He did it _six more times_ , each of his attempts resulting in a stronger shake from his ship, until his last fall caused him to hit the back of his head rather hard against the base of the jump seat, at which point he stayed down.

The ship’s rumbles quieted down, back to its familiar humming pattern, while the Doctor muttered indecipherable words under his breath.

Rose, who had quickly learned her lesson by watching the Doctor fall on his arse several times in a row, had not made a single attempt at getting up, merely lying on her back, hands joined over her stomach, patiently waiting.

When his muttering stopped, she spoke. “I’ve missed this.”

He hmphed. “What, getting bruised and forced to lie on a decrepit ship’s floor?” The ground trembled and the walls grumbled. “Well you asked for it, you old cow!”

Rose reached for his hand, and he fell silent. “Are we in any kind of danger, or is she just having a moment?”

His free hand stuck up, his screwdriver soon sonic-ing again. “Nope,” he said, dropping his hand. “Just having a good old mo.”

Rose hesitated, before carefully scooching closer to him. When there was no reaction from the ship, which was a reaction in itself, she went as far as slowly pinning herself to his side, resting her chin upon his shoulder. He did not look at her, keeping his gaze up, and she observed his profile, noting his slight irritation; she could already see the first sign of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“She’s worse than Donna, that’s what she is,” he mumbled at last, and Rose inwardly agreed; the ship was not being subtle in her attempt at keeping them together.

When most people would probably have found the situation uncomfortable, lying down on a metal grill, Rose could only relax against him, being daring enough to eventually slide one of her legs over his, snuggling closer.

“To be fair, she had a rough day,” Rose noted. “I mean, you did set her on fire.”

He finally turned his head, meeting her gaze, amusement taking over his annoyance. “ _You_ made that sun implode, not me.”

Rose bit down on her lip. “I guess I did. Sorry?” She offered her apology to the ship, who merely wheezed louder.

“Don’t try getting up, yet,” he said, his turn to move, shifting their positions so he could slip his arm around her waist, pressing her more securely to his side.

“’m not,” Rose breathed out, his movements having caused her to snuggle into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed against his shirt, still slightly damp from tonight’s flood. She tried keeping her eyes opened, but knew she was fighting a losing battle. “Has she done s’m’thing like this before?”

“Oh yes,” he answered at once, although more quietly. “Got a bit of a temper, she does. She likes reminding me who’s the boss of who, on occasions. There was that one time I landed her on a planet mainly populated with dog-like creatures, who as it turned out, all agreed upon the fact that a blue police box was the perfect urinating venue. By the time I’d made it back to her, they’d had a bit of a competition over who would claim her as part of their territory. Next time I went to use the loo, she kept me locked in there for two days.”

Rose snorted sleepily against him. “Two whole days?”

“Well, I think she figured I had drinking water.”

Rose let out another muffled chuckle. The sound was distant to her ears, as was everything else, beside the double drum of his hearts, so slow and steady at the moment.

She knew he was speaking again, having launched himself in another anecdote, one that involved a race of aliens that absolutely despised anything remotely cubic in shape.

But Rose was already drifting…drifting…drifting…the sound of his voice soon melding with the beating of his hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in the above note, I'm not lying, I have actually *written* da smut, I just know I can make it better. I'm virtually work free this week, though, so I'm really hoping to post the rest of it within the next few days. 
> 
> As always, feedback would be lovely, even the kind where you shake your fist at me.


	7. VII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support throughout this story, it's been a wonderful initiation to the Whoniverse :') As promised, here comes the smutty chapter, which concludes this story. Enjoy!

VII.

For the first time in months, Rose slept soundly. 

She knew the Doctor had moved her to her bed, in that strange, hazy way that came with never properly awakening from deep sleep. She’d felt movements, followed by an increase in softness and warmth, but beyond that, she had no recollection of going from the control room to her bedroom. All she knew was that he’d laid back down with her; she’d sought him out, even in her drowsy state, unwilling to let him go. 

When she woke up, however, she was most definitely alone. 

His absence did not worry her. She was not a ‘morning’ person, and he knew it – so did the TARDIS. The light that permeated her windowless room was familiar. Soft and non-intrusive, yet warm, as if dawn was well underway, the sun slowly rising over the horizon. 

Rose let herself wake up slowly, her face mostly buried in her pillow; every time she breathed in, her lungs filled up with _him_ , proof that he’d been here with her for quite a few hours. When grogginess finally left her body, she extracted herself from the fluffy comforter, taking a look at herself. 

She still wore yesterday’s clothes, except for her shoes, which he must have taken off her. Everything had dried as she slept, but she felt crummy; she’d never liked sleeping in the day’s clothes, and considering the amount of sweat-inducing situations she’d found herself in these past twenty-four hours, she longed for a lengthy shower. 

Rose indulged in that, too, the TARDIS proving she didn’t hold any grudge regarding the ‘imploding supernova’ incident by making sure the water was the perfect temperature and pressure. 

When she left the en suite and walked back into her room, she found the Doctor sitting at the edge of her bed, offering her his profile, spectacles perched on his nose. He was fiddling with some kind of device, wires and components spewing on his lap. 

“I made you tea,” he said in way of greeting, everything from his tone to the fact that he did not look at her letting her know he was properly wrapped in his examination. 

“Thanks”, she said, spotting the steaming cup. She smiled as she picked it up, recognising the smell of her favourite flavour. Leaning against the dresser, she watched as he worked, quickly realising that the device he’d taken apart wasn’t just any device. “You rummaged through my clothes again,” she noted with the smallest hint of disapproval. 

“Had to,” he replied simply, as if they’d never had conversations about whether or not looking through each other’s belongings was socially acceptable. “I wanted to understand how you made it back. You shouldn’t be here.” 

Rose gulped down too much of her tea, grimacing as the liquid burned its way down her throat. His words had a similar effect on the rest of her gut. She’d lived with him long enough to be familiar with his occasional lack of tact, not to mention that everything in his behaviour thus far pointed towards him being _pleased_ with her reappearance. 

The comment still stung. 

“I’m not gonna apologise for it,” she said. 

She may have said it more coldly than she intended to, judging by the way he stilled. “Apologise?” He repeated, confused, finally lifting and turning his head to look at her. “Why would you apologise?” 

She gave a half-shrug, her fingers drumming lightly on her cup. “Dunno. You make it sound like I’ve offended the universe or som’thing.” 

She expected him to delve into a longwinded explanation as to how she had indeed disregarded and broken ten thousand physical laws, but to her surprise, he did not say anything at all. 

He wasn’t actually looking at her anymore, not really, his eyes having dropped lower, examining her attire. 

When seconds stretched into nearly a minute, she cleared her throat, her face warm. “You’re staring,” she noted, her voice quieter, all trace of coldness gone. 

“You’re not wearing clothes,” he pointed out. 

The flush in her cheeks went up a notch. “I’m wearing a robe,” she corrected him. 

“Yes, I can see that,” he said, his eyes still taking in the thin garment. She was aware that the robe was not exactly opaque, something he seemed to have noticed, too. 

“I took a shower,” she felt the need to explain, although _surely_ a genius like him shouldn’t need her to spill it out. “My clothes are in here. I haven’t had a chance to dress, yet.” 

“Indeed,” he concluded, moving his eyes away from her with some reluctance, blinking at the device on his lap. “Would you like me to go?” 

Rose put the cup down on her dresser, the noise drawing the Doctor’s gaze again. “No. I’d like you to tell me why this is bothering you so much,” she said, pointing at the mess he’d made. 

More slowly than necessary, he raised his gaze to her face. They stared at each other in silence for another stretching instant, letting the tension grow steadily, unhurriedly. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said again, quietly. 

“You’ve said that already,” she reminded him, and he shook his head slowly. 

“I have, but…I mean it _literally_ , Rose. This,” he shifted upon the bed, sitting so that he was facing her, brandishing the ruined device. “This is _crude_ , almost grotesque. It shouldn’t have worked. I just…I don’t understand how it managed to pull you through, when realistically, the most it could have done was disrupt your molecular cohesion.” 

She brought both her hands to his raised one, pressing and squeezing upon skin and metal. She took the device from him, carelessly dropping it on the floor. It didn’t even make a sound as it fell, having landed on one of her many discarded clothes. 

“Does it really matter, how it worked?” She asked him softly, pushing forward against his knees in a wordless request, until he opened his legs to let her stand between them. 

His now empty hands had anchored themselves on her hips, and she pressed her palms upon his cool skin, in reassurance as well as consent, gently wrapping her fingers around his wrists. He was very still, as he stared up at her through his lenses. 

“It could have killed you,” he said, his voice low, slightly hoarse. “ _Should_ have killed you.” He swallowed hard. “Why would you take such a risk?” 

Rose brought both her hands to his face, cupping his jaws. She didn’t possess his telepathic abilities, but she was becoming more fluent in _this_ language. She saw herself as she had been, on _Dårlig Ulv Stranden_ , his projection standing so close to her, yet unable to feel him anymore. 

She focused on the pain and loneliness she’d seen in his eyes, felt her own heart breaking again at the raw memory. His grip tightened on her waist as he leaned into her touch, letting out a shaky breath, affected by the emotions she was sending through. 

“I couldn’t leave you all on your own,” she whispered, her thumbs gently tracing the dash of freckles on his cheekbones, right below the rims of his glasses. She took them off him, then, discarding them on another pile of crumpled clothes. 

When she turned back to face him, he slid his arms around, and she followed, cradling his head against her chest. “I told you,” she breathed into his hair. “I’m not leaving you.” 

The transition from standing between his legs, locked in his embrace, to straddling him at the edge of the bed, was somehow lost to her. Not that it mattered, letting her intuition guide her, only seeking closeness. Judging by the way he held on to her and sank into her kiss when she brought their faces together, he shared her longing. She rolled her hips into him as her tongue stroked his, slowly, deliberately, grazing his scalp with her nails a she did so. She did it again…and again…until he was moaning into her mouth, his grip on her so tight it was almost painful. 

He was responding in all the right ways, her own body flushing at the feel of him, yet there was too much tension in him. While her fingers slowly roamed his hair, alternating soft pulls with the raking of his scalp, his movements so far had been purely reactive, even in the way he kissed her back. 

Rose slowed down, halting the swaying of her hips. 

She pulled her face slightly away from his. “When you say you haven’t done this in a long while…” she breathed against his lips, and he reopened his eyes. “How long exactly is a long while, in Time Lord years?” 

“Oh, you know,” he said, his voice low, breathless. “A few…decades. A couple of regenerations.” 

She let herself sit back closer to his knees, looking at him in a bit of a shock. “You mean you’ve never…” Her voice trailed off. 

He frowned, somewhat offended by her insinuation. “I’m almost a thousand years old, Rose. I _have_ done this before.” 

She bit down on her lip. “Never in this body, though?” 

He coughed lightly, unconvincingly, and his cheeks, which were already pinker than usual, darkened even more. “Well, I guess not. Not that I’m foreseeing any major issues. So far it seems to be responding rather positively to you.” 

She smirked, bringing herself closer to him again, until she felt his rather positive response against her, drawing a sharp breath out of him. “I’ve noticed, yeah.” 

He brought a hand to the back of her head, weaving his fingers through her hair, using his grip to pull her back to him, obviously eager to move on from this particular topic. She indulged him, soon resuming this slow rocking of her hips they both seemed to approve of so much… 

…until she pulled away again. “ _Decades_ , really?” 

Eyes closed with an exaggerated pout, he sighed, heavily. When he reopened them, she saw how hazy they’d become, this body of his affected by this alright. “It’s really not that unusual for Time Lords to go entire lifetimes without sexual intercourse,” he said, matter-of-factly. “For most species, the main purpose of sex is reproduction. Long before the Time War started, we stopped being able to reproduce sexually, so we found other ways. Most of my kind became disinterested in the physical act, preferring to seek intimacy through telepathy instead.” 

“But…you haven’t done the intimate telepathy thing for a while either,” she reminded him, unnecessarily. 

“No,” he confirmed. 

“Not even in _this_ regeneration?” 

“Nope.” 

“What about…” she started, until he pressed a finger to her lips. 

“I’m usually the one who talks too much,” he said. “I’m a bit confused. I understand why any human would be shocked at the thought of spending such a long time without having sex, but I’m not quite sure why _you_ are so surprised by it. You’ve been with me from the moment I regenerated in this body. We spent about every hour of every day together after that. When exactly did you think I could have done any of this? And more importantly, with whom?” 

Her flushed cheeks got warmer still, backed into a corner she would rather have avoided altogether. “No one,” she lied with a shake of her head. 

But she couldn’t lie to him, close as they were, her own brainwaves betraying her. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the beautiful French courtesan he’d almost brought onto his ship, back when Mickey was travelling with them. 

The Doctor’s face slackened in surprise. “Reinette?” 

She closed her eyes, unable to hold his gaze, all too aware that she’d brought this upon herself by prodding. Sure, now that he’d admitted to being a nine hundred years old Time Lord trapped in a virgin body, she felt ridiculous for thinking he might have done more than _party_ during his brief stay in Versailles. She’d had quite a few reasons to let her imagination run wild at the time, though, and really, she couldn’t exactly help it. 

Stupid human brain. 

“Rose…” he spoke her name quietly, the sound so reminiscent of that one dream that shivers broke under her skin, which erupted in a fresh wave of goose bumps. 

When she felt the light press of his fingertips upon her temples, she reopened her eyes, her gaze locking with his, their faces so close. “May I?” he asked, and all she could do was nod in his hands. 

She tried to keep her eyes open, but from the moment he sparked that connection between them, she was pulled inward, entirely focused on what he was doing. While he’d swept through her like a heatwave the previous night, he simply maintained an open link between them this time. 

This was _weird_ , and nearly impossible to describe indeed. 

She felt like another kind of infinity extended in front of her…soon realising that this infinity she felt was _him_ , her Doctor, all of him for her to see and take and feel. 

Clumsily, she pressed forward with her mind, feeling as if she was stumbling through a soft, dazzling mist. He was around her, then, catching her, steadying her, his very mind embracing her the way his arms had so often embraced her body. 

She felt warm. Warm, safe, and _loved_. 

Without any word at all, he let her feel how much she meant to him, how much he valued her, not only as his companion and closest friend, but as her own person. How terribly, terribly _lonely_ he'd been before she came into his life, how lonely he’d become again after losing her. 

_I_ need _you_ , is what echoed in every inch of her. 

Rose suddenly ached with the strength of her own feelings for him, overtaken by a combination of love and lust, these emotions tinged with lingering loss, letting it all ripple from her mind to his, and back again. 

He pulled her deeper into him, wrapped his very soul around her, _through_ her. 

In this state of complete open-mindedness, she was oddly aware of her physical body, as if this bond that stretched so tightly between them caused all of her nerves to be exposed, sensitive to his every move. Not that he was moving much, his hands on her face, both of hers firmly clasped upon them, their faces pressed together, breathing the same warm air. 

And again, what she felt from him was a curious hesitancy, sensing his longing, yet awaiting both her permission and directions. One of her hands tightened around his and began pulling it down, pushing it through the hems of her robe as she sent him one single thought. 

_Touch me_. 

She pressed his palm upon her breast, and her whole body flushed with heat when he responded slowly, squeezing, massaging. Her hand remained on his, nails digging into his skin, but he hardly needed any more guidance, his thumb soon flicking and pressing upon her tensed nipple. As she gasped, so close to his lips, that other connection began to change. 

Somehow keeping her safe in his own head, he sank back into her mind, following a path she recognised from the night before. He did it slowly this time, going deep, so deep within her, as if he was looking for her. 

Rose opened herself to him, putting up no barrier, opposing no resistance; when he _did_ find her, her entire being shuddered at the ethereal feel of him. While his hand elicited nerve responses through physical contact, something she was familiar with, the way he aroused her very mind was unique, and quite incredible. He caressed her not with touch, but with need, every brush of him upon her reminding her of how much he wanted her, craved her, _adored_ her. 

He did not relinquish, pressing and releasing in turn, always a little bit harder, a little bit longer; Rose was acutely aware of the similar pattern his fingers were following upon her breast, causing another kind of heat to shoot through her nervous system, down to where she was aching. The two sensations were out of steps, at first, feeding off one another, mind…body…mind…body, until that one moment when they synchronised. Pleasure kindled in every inch of her, causing her to sway her body into him, seeking more contact, more friction, unable to control or to care about the sounds escaping her throat. 

It happened fast, then, in a quick succession of perfectly harmonised _pressures_ , inside and out, touching her, needing her, loving her, sending her higher up that peak, up…up… _up_ she went, until she was shattering against him, and all she saw was _light_. 

When the brightness receded, Rose found herself quite alone in her own head. 

She didn’t grieve the loss of him, rather grateful for this opportunity to breathe; their bodies were still pressed together, her nose into his shirt, both his arms inside her robe, hands splayed across her back, holding her to him as his breath tickled her neck. She felt dazed, almost groggy, her body wondrously boneless. 

When she felt the flick of his tongue upon her skin, she didn’t need telepathy to know this wasn’t meant to be sexy in any way. 

“You just tasted me,” she noted drowsily against his shoulder. 

“You humans are so _salty_ ,” he stated, amazed. “Tears and sweat alike. Fascinating, really, when you know that on a mere physiological level, the human body only contains an average of naught point fifteen percent of – ” 

The last of his scientific observation turned into an odd, squeaky noise; Rose’s tongue had found the skin of _his_ neck, interested in gathering another kind of information, trying to find out if she could make him squirm a little, and possibly shut up. 

She was successful in both aspects. 

“Verdict?” He asked, his voice having dropped again, affected by her teasing, yet genuinely curious to hear what she’d have to say about Time Lords and their saltiness. If she gave him the opportunity, he would probably grab a notepad right now, put his specs back on, and start making notes for future reference. 

She pulled away, one hand grabbing at his tie, pulling on it to loosen it. Her body was still tingling from the ridiculously powerful orgasm he’d drawn out of her, but it had done nothing to appease her craving for him, aching to touch him now. She’d never admit it, but she also happened to be more than a little affected by this brainy side of him; always had been. 

“My verdict is that you’re wearing way too many clothes and that you need to be naked.” 

He tilted his head, obviously taken aback by this answer, so far off from the scientific statement he was expecting. He did give her a small, understanding nod, though, lips barely pouting. “Fair enough.” They both went for his shirt buttons, but he quickly swatted her fingers away. “Now that would be counter-productive.” 

Rose didn’t fight him, discarding of her own robe while he took care of his shirt. She did not get a chance to focus on his newly exposed skin at all, as the Doctor found himself instantly taken by the sight of her bare body. 

Soon, she was cradling his head again as he pressed lingering kisses across her collarbone and chest. He took more samples as he went, murmuring her name at regular intervals, his hands traveling up and down her thighs, too slowly, yet just fast enough. She let him explore, eyes closed, unable to complain about being subjected to such reverence, his caresses only fuelling her desire to hold him _closer_. 

She started to focus all of her thoughts on one clear image, picturing herself lying on her back in the middle of the bed, with him securely trapped between her legs; she knew the instant he received her suggestion. His grip on her changed at once, his hands leaving her thighs, sliding behind her and squeezing, pulling her to him with a low groan as he sought her lips and he completely shifted their position, sinking onto the bed and rolling them over. Her legs locked around his hips, one of his hands finding hers, intertwining their fingers together and pinning them firmly near her head as he rippled and swayed, his turn to try and create more contact. 

Rose let go of his lips, overwhelmed by the feel of him upon her. “Doctor…” His name came out in a breathy moan. He rested his forehead against hers, his free hand back on her face, hot breath upon her parted lips. 

“What do you want?” He panted, almost pleaded, his fingers on her temple opening her up to him again. 

She sent a flurry of images through his mind, unable to decide what she wanted, or needed, wanting it all, imagining the feel of his tongue on her breasts, his fingers between her legs, both of them bare of clothes, culminating in what she imagined it would be like to feel him deep inside of her, throbbing, thrusting. 

He abruptly broke the connection, letting out a stream of strangled words she could not understand as his lower body pushed her deeper into the mattress, his face coming to rest against her neck. He began tracing a wet path across her collarbone, down to her breast, no longer simply tasting. When he reached her nipple, he curled his tongue around it, before sucking it between his lips; she let out a loud sigh, her back arching off the bed, her fingers twisting his hair. His free hand held on to her hip, pinning her to him, while keeping her from leaving the mattress completely. 

Eager to please her, and clearly trying to fulfil the requests she’d burned in his mind, he shifted upon her, allowing his hand to come between them, swiftly sinking through the wet heat of her folds, fingers curling. The gesture was too sudden, and more intrusive than she would have liked it to be, instantly tensing against him, a hand coming down to grab his wrist in a halting gesture. 

He didn’t need her hiss of discomfort to realise he’d mucked that up, trying to pull away from her, shaking his head with a grimace, eyes closed. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, _still_ trying to move away. 

Rose kept him there, his hips enclosed between her knees, a hand in his hair, the other one holding on to his wrist, pinning it to the mattress for the time being. 

“T’s okay,” she told him, pulling his head down until his nose was bumping hers, and she gently nibbled at his bottom lip. “It’s just…like that ‘cucumber’ thing last night, yeah? Being eager’s nice, but you gotta take it slow.” 

He let out a small noise of protest. “It’s _really_ not cucumber, though,” he couldn’t help but say, the last syllable muffled as she’d pulled him down into a kiss. 

She kissed him slowly, with her whole body, undulating beneath him, against him, her free hand cajoling his hair in a series of calculated pulls and scalp grazing, until he was giving in again, his muscles relaxing, letting himself rest more heavily upon her. She hadn’t let go of his wrist, soon using her grip to bring his hand back between her legs, directing him, showing him her preferred pace. When his fingers found the small bundle of nerves that hid there, and he wisely decided to focus all his attention on it, the moan she let out into his mouth was genuine. Before long, he didn’t need her guidance at all, clever enough to pick up on what pleased her and what didn’t, leaving her hand free to roam. 

Needing to feel more of him, and thinking it was about time she returned some of his attention, she sneaked her fingers past the waistband of his trousers. She barely had time to feel the characteristic heat of him, so close to her hand, that he was tensing again, pulling away from her, his turn to grab her wrist. 

“Ah, bad idea, better not,” he managed to say, obviously flustered and equally aroused, his voice shaky, his eyes hazy with lust. When she raised an eyebrow, he continued: “I am _quite_ aware of how inexperienced this particular body is, not to mention how responsive it is to you. I don’t think that you touching me _there_ would be very practical in the long run.” 

Being told that she shouldn’t touch him only made her want to do it more, half-tempted to free her hand from his loose grip and remind him of how stubborn she could be, aching at the simple thought of putting her hand on him, and making him lose control completely. She didn’t fancy turning this into a battle of wills, though, even if all she wanted was to please him. 

She moved her hand out instead, bringing it to his backside, pulling on the fabric of his trousers. “These _really_ need to come off, then,” she noted, and they spent the next few moments fumbling with the rest of his clothes. 

Finally, they were blissfully _naked_ , her legs already back around his waist, most of his body resting heavily upon her, his nose pressed into the crook of her neck, as close as they could be without being joined, feeling the relentless heat of his so close to hers. 

Rose did her best to remain still, aware of the tremors that shook his body, sensing how dazed he felt, the sensations delightful in nature, yet overwhelming nonetheless.  She did move her hands, slowly, bringing them up to his head, one of them cupping his nape while the other sank though his slightly damp hair. 

This caress alone caused him to quake against her, his breath heavy and hoarse upon her skin. 

“We can stop, if it’s too much,” she said softly into his ear. 

His breathing halted, before she felt him shake his head, his whole body soon moving, pushing himself up to look at her. She’d understood his reactions, just as entranced by their proximity, but she didn’t feel overwhelmed until she saw the raw need in his gaze, felt it seeping from his pores into hers. 

When he lowered his face to her and let her feel how much he wanted her through another breath-taking, toes-curling kiss, she knew there would be no turning back. He was shifting, then, familiar enough with the act to do it almost assuredly. Propping himself up, he pulled her to him in all the right ways, and she had to break their kiss, relinquishing her hold on his hair, her arms instinctively slipping under his to cling to his shoulders. 

He breathed out more choked up words as he began to enter her, the sounds whispered upon her lips, her cheek, her neck. Rose couldn’t make them out, couldn’t have focused long enough to try, even if she wanted to. She was too lost in the sensations, which were not entirely pleasurable at first, as was to be expected; it’d been a while for her, too. 

He’d listened to her, though, mindful and slow, tender even. He had done this often enough to remember it took some adjusting, letting her shift under and around him, following her cues as best he could. What they lacked in synchronicity in those first few moments, they made up for it in other ways, his fingers twisted in her hair, his face often pressed to her skin. Her own hands clutched at his back to keep him close, closer, profoundly stirred by how intense this was, feeling the tremors that travelled under his skin. And even through her small discomfort, there always was that _heat_ , that ache, that need, going from him to her, from her to him, over and over and over again. 

They found their rhythm, eventually, through trials and errors, as any lovers would, gaining more momentum now that their bodies were locked in a position that seemed to suit them both, judging by the sudden heaviness of their breaths. He became more daring, less cautious in the way he pushed back into her, encouraged by her humming moans and the clench of her insides, the rolling of her hips in sync with his. 

As implacable heat built up between them almost exponentially now that their pace was set and discomfort had made place to warmth, Rose half-expected him to resume their telepathic connection. His fingertips remained pressed into fleshier parts of her body, though, ensuring she was as close to him as she could be, her own fingers digging into his skin in search of that same closeness. Pinned as they were, she could _feel_ him in ways she’d never felt any of her past lovers, that skin to skin contact giving her more than mere glimpses, sending sparks through, melding her sensations with his. 

She refused to let go of his gaze as his face constricted in a pleasure so intense it resembled pain. She knew he would come long before her, despite the sweltering pressure that was steadily growing inside of her with each sway of their hips. His body was already showing every sign of imminent release, the tremors that shook his frame having turned into quakes, pleading sounds escaping his throat in a staccato of moans. But even through this dazzling ecstasy that seemed to be overtaking him completely, there remained something else in the infinite depth of his eyes, always that same something else. 

_Is this real?_ He wondered, pleaded, begged. 

And so Rose clung to him, pressing every inch of her skin to him to heighten their bond, making it as clear as it could be without the joining of their minds. _I’m here…_ she soothed him, coaxed him. _I’m here…_

When that coil snapped and pleasure flooded his entire being, the intensity of it took her by surprise, so attuned to him in that moment that the ripples of his heat broke through her skin and ignited her insides. 

She tottered on the edge for a suspended instant, as if something in her was protesting at this improbable development, offended by how ludicrous it would be, to let herself be swept by his bliss. She almost let that voice win, let her reason prevail…until another voice came into play. 

Her Doctor’s voice, always so real and magical all at once, muffled into the crook of her neck, breathing out her name in his surrender; breathing it out against her skin, as well as deep within, etching it across every atom in her body, in the very centre of her soul. 

_Rose…_

She toppled into the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again everybody.
> 
> I'm already brainstorming another story...Tentoo/Rose this time, as I'm curious to explore their dynamic (also ANGST! yum yum), so keep an eye out ;-)
> 
> As always, any feedback would be lovely! *smooches*


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